this

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the stranger turned those mesmerizing eyes back towards his captive.
“John Kelly,” the terrifying man said—with a gentleness made all the more terrible by his obvious strength. “John Kelly, you’re a good man, but you’re on the way to a bad end. ’Tis the luck of your God that brought you here tonight, within my reach and my ken, for if you hadn’t struck your lad just now, I wouldn’t have known of your troubles and your falling into the grip of pain and whiskey. Now get hold of yourself and get your life straight again—for if you don’t, I swear to you that we’ll steal this lovely boy of yours, and you’ll never see him again, this side of paradise. Remember what your mother told you, John Kelly. Remember it well, and believe it. We did it once within your family, and we can and will do it again, if the need comes to it.”
There was another flash of light. When Sam could see, the man was gone, and his father was sinking slowly to his knees. Sam still couldn’t move, numb with shock and awe, and feelings he couldn’t put a name to.
For a long, long time, John Kelly lay in the dirt, his shoulders shaking. Then, after a while, John looked up, and Sam saw tears running down his Da’s face, glistening in the moonlight.
“Da?” he whispered, tentatively. “Da?”
“Son—” John choked—and gathered Sam into his arms, holding him closely, just the way he used to. Sobbing. Somehow that made Sam feel both good and bad.

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