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Authors: Stina Leicht

And Blue Skies From Pain (11 page)

BOOK: And Blue Skies From Pain
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The guard slid his hands all the way up Liam’s leg to the inside of his thigh, and the panic took over. He reacted without thinking. Shame heating his face, he yanked an arm free and elbowed the offending screw in the head as hard as he could.
“Shite! My nose!”
“I’ll kill you! Don’t you fucking touch me!” Two more screws rushed in to pin Liam’s arms, and a steel cuff locked around his right wrist.
“What the hell are you doing?” It was Father Murray.
“Don’t move!” One of the two scrabbled for Liam’s left wrist.
“Get them the fuck off me!” The cuff was jerked, and it bit into Liam’s arm. “Get them off!”
A screw yelled in Liam’s ear. “Stop fighting, damn it!”
“Fucking kill you! I’ll rip—” Liam felt a knee in the middle of his back. “Don’t you fucking touch me!” He fought with everything he had, striking out whenever he could get a limb free. He made contact a number of times and was rewarded with a few grunts. “Let go! Let me go! Get off—” A boot caught him in the face and another in the thigh. The rest was lost in the fog of adrenaline. In short order the pain began to build enough to be felt beyond the general numbness, and he hoped he wasn’t going to lose any teeth or an eye. Then his right arm was painfully twisted up his back, and a hard kick landed on his weakened right shoulder. The bone gave way in a burst of white-hot pain, and he thought he was going to pass out.
“Stop! You’re killing him!”
“I said freeze!”
Someone was screaming. Liam realized it was himself.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Again, it was Father Murray.
“He broke my nose!”
“Get Williams to the infirmary! Get out of here!”
“Yes, sir!”
Father Murray said, “Wait! Don’t shoot!”
“It attacked Father Westbrook,” a guard said.
“He’s not fighting,” Father Murray said. “Can’t you see? Don’t shoot!”
Liam felt more than saw all but one of the guards move back. Deep pain beat time with his heart. Someone laid a hand on his shoulder, and agony forced the little breath he had remaining from his lungs.
“Liam? Liam? Are you all right?” It was Father Murray.
Liam gasped for air and was sorry for it at once. “Shoulder. Jesus. Oh, fuck. My shoulder.” Everything was blurry.
“Get Father Conroy! Now!” Father Murray again.
“The Inquisitor?” one of the screws asked.
Father Murray sounded angrier than Liam remembered ever hearing before. “Are you going to make the fucking call or am I? He needs medical attention. Now.”
“The demon?”
“He’s a young man who was left in your charge who you nearly beat to death. If he were a spawn of the Fallen, he would have killed at least two or three of you. Don’t you think? Get the cuffs off him. And put the gun away. Now,” Father Murray said. “He’s no threat to you.”
Blinking, Liam noticed the screw standing over him was holding a loaded syringe. A second screw was pointing a gun at him. Another jolt of panic surged through Liam’s system numbing the pain for a brief moment.
“He injured Father Williams as well. I’m not authorised to—”
“Then damn well get someone in here who is!”
“According to procedure, I must sedate the subject when it’s agitated.”
“
He’s
perfectly fine,” Father Murray said. “You’re the ones who could use sedation!”
“He appeared calm before and then attacked Father Williams. He’s dangerous. And—”
“Only after your man used excessive force,” Father Murray said.
“The alarm sounded. There was screaming. For all we knew—”
“The lad had a bad dream. Check the tapes if you don’t believe me,” Father Murray said. “In all your dealings with demons, have you ever known one of
them
to have a nightmare?”
The screw armed with the syringe hesitated.
“Neither have I.” Father Murray sighed. “Look, I understand everyone is under a great deal of pressure. But do you honestly think this is the appropriate response?”
The screw armed with the syringe said, “It’s best not to take chances.”
“Are you a trained Guardian?” Father Murray asked.
“No, sir. But—”
“I am. And I’m telling you he isn’t a threat. I had the situation under control. In fact, everything was perfectly fine until you and your team kicked in the door.”
The screw armed with the syringe turned to one of the others. “Father Jensen, get over here and hold this.” He handed off the syringe. “Watch him. He so much as coughs without permission, stick him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then he brought out a key from his pocket and removed the cuffs.
“Liam, can you stand?” Father Murray asked.
Liam risked a nod. It seemed to take an eternity, and twice he had to pause while the room faded in and out of focus, but he was able to get to his feet without fainting and without needing too much help from Father Murray. However, if there was anything else required of him—and Liam had a terrible feeling there would be—he wasn’t sure he’d last it. He shivered. It was suddenly very cold.
“We have to get you to the examination room. It’s down the hall. Do you think you can make it?”
Liam gave the screws a hard stare. It wasn’t easy, and he had to squint because of his bruised face, but it was worth the trouble. None of them had moved to the phone at any point in the proceedings. Some had their hands to their weapons but hadn’t drawn. The burned rot stink was stronger now, but he still couldn’t pinpoint where it came from. Something wasn’t right about the screws.
One of them is Fallen. Has to be.
But none had the characteristic hunched back. Still, they were too excited. Their expressions reminded him of a scene from a documentary he’d seen years ago about a pack of jackals. He had an uneasy feeling at that moment that if he or Father Murray showed any sign of weakness then they were both fucked. He swallowed and lifted his chin in defiance. The screws glared back at him with an equal amount of disdain.
“Liam?”
Do I say anything now? Or wait? Which is less likely to get us killed?
Liam took a careful, shuddering breath. His teeth painfully clattered together.
Not now.
“Aye. I’ll do.”
“There’s a lad.” Father Murray pointed to the bed. “Get me that blanket. He’s going into shock.”
Liam felt a bit better the instant the blanket was wrapped around him. He leaned against the wall for support. Father Murray positioned himself to get under Liam’s left shoulder in order to help him walk. A nameless unease had settled into the empty place in the back of his brain where the monster normally lived. He wanted out of that room and away from the screws as soon as possible. Again, he thought of circling jackals.
A screw stood in their path and bared his teeth in a fierce grin.
Father Murray said, “Get out of the way. Please.”
Not moving, the screw said, “We’ve orders—”
“You’ve no wish to let the others down. I understand. We must protect friends, loved ones. More than their lives—their souls. With so much at stake, it’s easy to forget ourselves. But shouldn’t our own humanity be a part of the humanity we protect?” Father Murray asked. “You’re a priest. One of God’s own. We end suffering. We don’t cause it. Please.”
One of the guards looked away and then the tension was gone.
The screw in charge said, “Let them pass. We’ll follow them to the examination room.” He spoke without moving his gaze from Father Murray. “Father Jenson, call the Inquisitor and tell him we’re on the way.”
Liam felt Father Murray’s steady presence under his left shoulder.
“Come on, Liam.”
They staggered past the screws and through the door. Once they were out into the hall, Liam whispered, “Nice wee speech, Father.”
“Save your breath,” Father Murray muttered back, returning the humor. “You’re going to need it.”
Liam whispered again, “Watch yourself. The guards. Something stinks like Raven’s Hill.”
Father Murray’s eyes widened and then he gave a brief nod.
Focused on warning Father Murray, Liam stumbled and squeezed his eyes shut against the flash of paralyzing pain gripping his shoulder and chest. Father Murray paused until Liam signaled he could continue. The screws gathered around, watchful.
He didn’t know how he made it to the examination room, but he did. Father Conroy was standing outside with a smug look.
“What happened?” Father Conroy asked.
“Why don’t I give you a copy of my report?” Father Murray asked.
Liam remembered stepping up to the examination table and at some point he’d lain down, that was obvious, but he couldn’t have said when. That moment and a few others were lost in a fog of pain. The next time he opened his eyes the screws were gone.
That’s something.
The where and why didn’t so much matter at present. The blanket was tugged out of his grip. Cold air brushed against his skin as his shirt was opened. He shivered.
“Interesting.”
“Is that all you can say? The guards almost killed him.”
A drawer slammed. Metal clinked against metal. “Then perhaps your experiment shouldn’t have tampered with the security system.”
“He tucked a chair under a doorknob. Does that warrant this kind of reaction, Gerry? Do you understand what will happen when Bran sees what they’ve done?”
The sharp smell of rubbing alcohol invaded Liam’s nose. A cold cloth wiped at his cheek. Someone was cleaning the blood from his face— Father Conroy, he assumed.
“Ask him why he did it,” Father Conroy said.
Liam tried to answer, but his mouth didn’t respond right away. His tongue felt too big for his mouth.
“What did he say?” Father Conroy asked.
“Liam?” Father Murray asked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Liam said. The words came out in a lisp. He tried to open his eyes and couldn’t for the most part. The left one was now swollen shut, and the right one wasn’t much better. He could only see through one watery slit. Both priests were very close. Father Conroy held a bloody bit of cotton wool in his hand. Liam stopped trying to see.
“There,” Father Murray said. “He did it so he could sleep.”
“You know that wasn’t the reason, Joseph.”
“What’s it going to take to convince you he’s human?”
More movement. A drawer slammed again. Papers fluttered. A ballpoint pen clicked.
“What are you doing?” Father Murray asked.
“We’re finished here. I’ve cleaned the wounds. Photographed and measured everything. Now we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Didn’t you say he heals for himself? I need to record how long it takes.”
“You can’t be serious,” Father Murray said. “You’re not going to set the shoulder? Or give him something for the pain?”
“I assume that would not only be a waste of materials but also might interfere with the results.”
“Help him, damn you! If you don’t, I’m taking him out of here right now! I’m calling off this whole thing!”
“Don’t be so hasty. There’s so much to learn.”
“Do it! Now!”
It was Father Conroy’s turn to sigh. There was another bout of metallic noises, the clink of glass. Liam felt a needle stab in his right arm, and by the time the shirt was cut from him the pain had grown distant. He could breathe again. He remembered something with a jolt of panic.
“Lighter.”
“What is it, Liam?”
“In my pocket. My lighter. I need it.”
A cold steel rectangle was pressed into his palm.
“Try to sleep, Liam,” Father Murray said. “Father Conroy is going to set your shoulder. This is going to hurt.”
Chapter 5
 
Belfast, County Antrim, Northern Ireland
November 1977
 
 
 
“P
ut the scalpel away, Gerry,” Father Murray said as another sobering jolt of adrenaline seared the last remnants of sleep from his system.
Is Gerry safe? What if those guards aren’t the only ones affected? Why didn’t I notice something was wrong until Liam said something? Is it because I’ve wanted this so much?
He assumed a protective stance between Father Conroy and the now unconscious Liam.
How far has the contamination gone? Surely it can’t have gone far without someone noticing? What if it’s reached Bishop Avery? Am I losing my ability to judge the difference between human and demon?
“You’ve set his shoulder. Thank you. Now, we’ll be leaving.” The prospects of fighting his way out of a high-security facility weren’t good, even if waking Liam was an option. On the other hand, leaving him behind was unthinkable.
BOOK: And Blue Skies From Pain
4.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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