Read And Blue Skies From Pain Online
Authors: Stina Leicht
And Blue Skies From Pain (52 page)
Liam didn’t think. The sharp tingling sensation which signaled a transformation poured over him in seconds. Before he knew it, he’d become the Hound—a form he’d not dared to take in months. The experience had changed. Instead of feeling as if he were peering out of a mask, the monster’s—
no, creature’s
—body was more his own. He was conscious that Frankie was near and could see him shouting obscenities in shock and fear. Normally that would’ve mattered, but now it wasn’t important. During the change, Liam registered that the Fallen had fired their guns. The wind of the passing bullets brushed his fur. Somewhere window glass shattered. Liam charged Samuel. Lowering his head, he barreled into the creature. The move knocked Samuel down. He landed on top of the fallen angel. Outraged that they would dare to impersonate someone he cared about, Liam howled. Like the gunfire, the sound of it expanded huge into the night air. His anger pressed against his eardrums. Tearing at the Fallen to keep it from getting up, his mouth filled with shreds of gritty cloth and an acrid and foul taste. Fetid reek penetrated his throat and skull. It turned his stomach, and he forced himself not to retch. He understood that someone was screaming. He felt Samuel clamp down on his wrist—
paw
. Liam checked an urge to tear its throat out.
I can’t kill it. I won’t.
no, creature’s
—body was more his own. He was conscious that Frankie was near and could see him shouting obscenities in shock and fear. Normally that would’ve mattered, but now it wasn’t important. During the change, Liam registered that the Fallen had fired their guns. The wind of the passing bullets brushed his fur. Somewhere window glass shattered. Liam charged Samuel. Lowering his head, he barreled into the creature. The move knocked Samuel down. He landed on top of the fallen angel. Outraged that they would dare to impersonate someone he cared about, Liam howled. Like the gunfire, the sound of it expanded huge into the night air. His anger pressed against his eardrums. Tearing at the Fallen to keep it from getting up, his mouth filled with shreds of gritty cloth and an acrid and foul taste. Fetid reek penetrated his throat and skull. It turned his stomach, and he forced himself not to retch. He understood that someone was screaming. He felt Samuel clamp down on his wrist—
paw
. Liam checked an urge to tear its throat out.
I can’t kill it. I won’t.
They’re evil,
the monster whispered in a voice that seemed more his own.
They don’t matter.
the monster whispered in a voice that seemed more his own.
They don’t matter.
That isn’t the point,
Liam thought back, locking his jaws on the Fallen’s arm in order to free himself.
I matter. My word matters.
Liam thought back, locking his jaws on the Fallen’s arm in order to free himself.
I matter. My word matters.
Samuel jerked its arm free, tearing cloth and skin on Liam’s teeth.
“Liam! Get back!”
Silver flashed in an arc. Something slammed into his back, and he was crushed against Samuel. Someone landed a forceful kick in his side, and he was knocked off his paws. Crushing pain descended upon him, taking away any chance at oxygen. He lay on his side, stunned. He thought he saw Conor standing over him, but Liam knew it couldn’t be Conor. This Conor was robed in a warm, bright light that made Liam’s eyes hurt. More silver flashed. Someone shouted in Latin. One of the Fallen in a terrible voice filled with hate and filth. It was answered with a loud war cry in Irish.
“Fág an bealach!”
Clear the way!
Clear the way!
And then the pain in his back became too much and a numbing darkness swallowed him.
Chapter 28
The Other Side
24 December 1977, Christmas Eve
24 December 1977, Christmas Eve
L
iam woke to terrible pain and an argument. Bits of other information filtered through to consciousness. He was no longer in the middle of a battle or even the car park outside the warehouse. He was lying on his stomach. Lumps of soft cloth were wedged against his body, cheeks and neck—each seemed to be supporting his head and body in a particular alignment.
iam woke to terrible pain and an argument. Bits of other information filtered through to consciousness. He was no longer in the middle of a battle or even the car park outside the warehouse. He was lying on his stomach. Lumps of soft cloth were wedged against his body, cheeks and neck—each seemed to be supporting his head and body in a particular alignment.
“Damn it. We shouldn’t have moved him.” It was a stern woman’s voice. She had an American accent like Sister Ginny’s, but her voice was deeper. “His spine may be injured.”
“And what were we to do? Leave him for the Peelers to murder? They’d have put a bullet in his skull and then swore he was shooting back!”
That was Frankie, Liam was sure of it.
He’s safe,
he thought, relieved.
That’s good.
His legs were tingling.
He’s safe,
he thought, relieved.
That’s good.
His legs were tingling.
“He should be in a hospital, not a tent in the middle of—”
“You’ve no understanding of what you’re about, woman,” Bran said. “He’s one of us. He’ll heal, or he won’t. The Goddess will decide. It’s bad enough we’ve kept him here. He should be outside with the others. Leave him be.”
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing. You can’t heal severed nerves with herbs and mud poultices. In fact, you can’t heal them at all,” the stern woman with the deep voice said. “He should be dead after a blow like that. He’ll be lucky if he can walk after this.”
“He’ll walk,” Bran said, but Liam sensed a hint of doubt. “He’s my son.”
“Then get out of my way and let me get the bleeding stopped,” the stern woman said. “Or let Mary do it.”
Someone touched him and another sharp pain exploded in his back, raced up his spine and lodged itself inside his skull. “Oh, Jesus! Oh, fuck!” He gasped for air but every breath only made the pain worse. Hands held him down—shoulders, arms, legs, head. With the lumps of cloth so close to his face he couldn’t see.
“Don’t move!”
He yanked an arm free, but someone grabbed his hand and forced it down. “Get this shite off me! I can’t breathe! Fuck!”
“I said, don’t move!”
“He needs morphine. I’ll get it.” It was another woman—not Sister Ginny. Liam guessed it was Sister Mary.
“And what is that?” Bran asked.
“Da, please,” Liam said through clenched teeth. He shook with the force it took to keep from screaming. “Oh, fuck it hurts!”
“All right, then,” Bran said.
Liam didn’t even feel the needle. The tiny pain was lost in the roaring of his nerve endings. Breathing through his teeth, he shivered as he waited for the pain to abate.
“Get a blanket on him. He’s going into shock,” the stern woman said. “What is that? Is it even clean?”
She’s a bold one,
Liam thought.
Liam thought.
“It’s clean enough,” Bran said, the anger clear in his tone.
“Please, Sister Catherine.” Father Murray sounded strange and a bit distant. “Don’t make enemies of the Fey. We’ve worked very hard to form a positive—”
“You’re right, Father. I’m very sorry. You did us a favor, bringing us here like you did. We owe you a debt. It’s just that all this is so… sudden,” Sister Catherine said and then let out a deep breath. “I don’t suppose it’d be possible for you to check on Sister Ginny for me? Her leg needs a fresh bandage, and Mary is seeing to Father Murray.”
“You’re only trying to get me out,” Bran said.
Sceolán said, “You are a wee bit in the way.”
Bran replied with something rude in Irish.
“Let the woman do what she must, aye?” Sceolán asked. “You’ve done what you can for him.”
Liam heard a sigh and then he felt a blanket drop onto him.
“Liam?” Sister Catherine asked in a whisper. “Can you feel your legs?”
“Aye.” The pain wasn’t gone, exactly, but it was beginning to feel more remote. “Can you take this shite off my face already? I can’t see.”
“I’m afraid not. Not yet. Don’t try to move,” she said. “I’m going to touch you, and I want you to tell me where you feel it. Okay?” Sister Catherine went through a series of checks—arms, hands, legs and feet. At the end of it she sounded relieved—that is, until he told her about the tingling. Nonetheless, she agreed to remove the cloths that anchored his head in place, and he was able to shift into a more comfortable position.
“Try to get some sleep,” she said and then went away.
It wasn’t long after that when Frankie appeared on the edge of his vision. “Are you all right, mate?”
“I’ll do.”
“You look fucking terrible.”
“Aye, well. So would you, if someone tried to cut you in half.”
Frankie paused. “I should go.”
“Don’t. Please. I’m not sleepy. I’ll be dead bored with no one to talk to.”
“All right,” Frankie said, sitting on the ground close by. “You know, someone should explain what nuns are to your uncle.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s been chatting up Sister Ginny and Sister Mary both since we arrived,” Frankie said. “And I haven’t had the heart to tell him he doesn’t stand a fucking chance.”
“He’ll work it out, I’m thinking,” Liam said. “Either that or they’ll shoot him. Either way, why spoil the fun?”
“Pound says Sister Catherine shoots him first.”
“My money is on Sister Ginny.”
“You’re on.”
“What happened at the warehouse?” Liam asked. “After I was hit. I don’t remember much.”
“Your father’s people came just like you said they would,” Frankie said. “Never seen anything like it. Those things, the Fallen, they rabbited off. Then the Peelers came, and your da and uncle sent all of us here.”
“You seem to be coping with it rather well,” Liam said.
“Been talking to Father Murray and the sisters a wee bit,” Frankie said. “They’ve explained a few things. Still not entirely sure of any of it. Sounds fucking mad, but I don’t know what else to make of it. I’m half certain I’ll wake up in hospital tomorrow. The mental ward, I’m thinking.”
“I suppose it takes a wee bit of getting used to.”
Is it Christmas Eve?
Liam didn’t want to look at his watch. He didn’t want to move.
Hell, I don’t want to know.
Is it Christmas Eve?
Liam didn’t want to look at his watch. He didn’t want to move.
Hell, I don’t want to know.
Frankie nodded. “Are you still hurting?”
It’s near enough to Christmas Eve,
Liam thought. “Not as much.”
Liam thought. “Not as much.”
“Should I get someone?”
“Why are you in such a hurry to go?” Liam asked.
Frankie shrugged. “I’m worried for you, mate. And I don’t know what to say. Aye?”
“I’ll do, I said.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. This isn’t a broken arm or a bullet in a kneecap. It’s your fucking spine. Sister Catherine says—”
“Da is right. She doesn’t understand how we work,” Liam said. “I’ll be on my feet tomorrow. You’ll see.”
So I hope,
Liam thought.
So I hope,
Liam thought.
“It’s true then?”
“What is?”
“You’re one of them. You’re a…” Frankie lowered his voice. “…a púca?”
“Aye. Half, anyway.”
“Why didn’t you… Why didn’t I know until now?”
Liam resisted an urge to shrug.
Would you have believed me if I had told you?
“Didn’t know myself until recently.”
Would you have believed me if I had told you?
“Didn’t know myself until recently.”
“Oh.” Frankie paused.
“What happened to Henry, Davy and the others? And what about that teller and his family? Have you heard?”
“Henry, Davy and the rest were lifted. Fucking overheard it on Séamus’s radio. The teller’s wee family are safe, I’m thinking.”
“Good. About the family,” Liam said. “Sorry about Henry and the others.”
“Fucking hope Henry can keep his gob shut.”
“You shouldn’t have to worry, mate. You’re far out of it. Peelers won’t be for finding you as long as you’re here.”
“Shite,” Frankie said. “This is real.”
“Aye. It is.”
“You’re one of them.”
“Aye,” Liam said with a yawn. “I am.”
Frankie paused. “Well, then. I respectfully take back what I said about you cheating at cards.”
Liam was sleepy at last. “I cheated.”
“I fucking knew it! How did you do it? Magic, aye? You predicted the future?”
“Was magic, right enough,” Liam said and let his eyelids close. “Saw your cards reflected in the fucking window behind you.”
Chapter 29
T
he Derry street Liam found himself standing on had been abandoned about six months ago. He walked with Mary Kate in afternoon shadows cast by empty and broken council houses. Their shattered windows stared down at him like fractured eyes. One or two of the places were burned out. British troops loitered on the corner. Somewhere high above several helicopters flew past. Rubble littered the narrow street.
he Derry street Liam found himself standing on had been abandoned about six months ago. He walked with Mary Kate in afternoon shadows cast by empty and broken council houses. Their shattered windows stared down at him like fractured eyes. One or two of the places were burned out. British troops loitered on the corner. Somewhere high above several helicopters flew past. Rubble littered the narrow street.
“That was a stupid thing you did, Liam Kelly,” Mary Kate said. Her tone was brimming with admonishment and pride.
Liam was uncertain how to react. Walking with his hand in Mary Kate’s, he glanced up at the afternoon sky. It was good to be home. He took in a deep breath of free clean air. He’d been away from Long Kesh for one whole day. On one hand, he couldn’t believe his luck. Mary Kate had rung him the moment she’d heard he’d returned, and now, here he was walking with her. On the other hand, before he’d been lifted she’d agreed to go steady with him, but now he was sure she’d return his I.D. bracelet. He was an internee after all—a criminal. His former classmates stayed clear of him, not that they’d been all that friendly before. And as if that weren’t enough, Patrick had made his thoughts known on the subject by persisting in calling him “Jailbird.” So it was that the worry that this might be the last time he’d hold Mary Kate’s hand cast a cloud over Liam’s joy at seeing her. He couldn’t help but be confused. When they’d talked on the phone she’d all but called him a hero. However, now that he saw her he began to have his doubts. She was acting a wee bit strange—
nervous
—as if she had news for him she didn’t think he’d like.
nervous
—as if she had news for him she didn’t think he’d like.
She’s seeing someone else, aye? That’s why she’s taken me down this street. She wants to break it off with me in private-like.
He supposed he should be thankful she’d not done it in a letter while he was in prison.
He supposed he should be thankful she’d not done it in a letter while he was in prison.
“You might have gone and crippled yourself for life,” she said. “You’ll have to be careful when you wake.”
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