And Blue Skies From Pain (16 page)
Read And Blue Skies From Pain Online
Authors: Stina Leicht
Father Murray emerged from his bedroom at that moment, his concerned expression deepened.
“What day is it?” Liam asked.
“Tuesday. You slept most of the day through. You needed it. Healing well by the look of it.”
“Oh.”
“We must talk.”
“Aye?” Unease settled into Liam’s shoulders. He turned his back on Father Murray and returned to the kitchenette.
“It’s about the peace agreement. Then we’ll address what just happened.”
The tea had steeped a bit too long in the mug. In spite of the milk it was dark enough to pass for coffee—if the coffee in question had an orange tint. Acting against years of poverty’s training in thrift, Liam poured the mess out in the sink, rinsed out the mug and started the tea kettle once more.
“You’re not obligated to stay. Not after what those guards did to you,” Father Murray said.
“You’re not bloody serious.”
“The Order failed to keep its promise. Now it’s up to you to decide whether or not you’ll stay.”
Liam swallowed. “I can leave?”
“Yes.”
“Now? And no one will stop me?”
“The choice is yours, Liam. However, I wish you would consider staying.”
“Ah,” Liam said, with a sinking feeling in his gut.
There would be a fucking catch.
“All right. Let’s hear it. Your grand noble reasons to remain a hostage and trust the nice murdering bigots.”
There would be a fucking catch.
“All right. Let’s hear it. Your grand noble reasons to remain a hostage and trust the nice murdering bigots.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It fucking is,” Liam said. “There’s always some fucking grand reason why I must turn the other cheek, aye? Act the fucking saint. But those bastards don’t have to be remotely sorry for whatever it is they’ve done. Hell, they don’t have to bother admitting a fucking thing. Can’t have them inconvenienced, you know. So, what’s it to be this time, Father? Let’s hear it.”
Father Murray looked away. It almost made Liam sorry for taking out his frustrations on him.
Almost.
Almost.
“There will be changes. If you choose to stay,” Father Murray said, appearing to speak to the tile floor. “Do you wish to hear the offer?”
“As if I have a fucking choice.”
“You do. I’m very serious about this. They tried to get me to make the decision for you, but I refused. As much as this means to me, it isn’t my life at stake. Not now. All this time others have chosen for you. Whether because you were a child or because you were a prisoner. Well, that time is over. You’re a man grown. The time has come to stop reacting and start acting. You’re a free man. It’s time to behave as one.”
Liam blinked twice and swallowed. He opened his mouth to speak but his voice caught, and he coughed. “I’ll hear it.” The answer came out in a croak. “The offer.”
“You’re to be treated with courtesy by the staff. No more abuse.”
A derisive retort lodged in the back of Liam’s throat, but he let it be.
Father Murray continued. “Also, as of this moment you’ll be granted private access to the Order’s gym as needed. There’s an outdoor track on the roof. You’ll be able to run whenever you like, provided advance notice is given to the staff.”
“And?”
“That’s all I have. But if you’ve other demands I’ll take them to Bishop Avery. He’s open to anything within reason.” Father Murray’s tone was careful. He seemed to be making it clear who held the power in the situation.
“I see.” Liam didn’t know what to make of the change. Father Murray wasn’t attempting to influence the outcome as he usually did. No guilty ploys. No appeals to his better nature. Nothing. “And the reasons for staying are the same, I suppose?”
“Actually, no,” Father Murray said. “But should the results prove you’re human—and we both know they will—the Church will extend the truce with the Fey. During that time, the Bishop is to accompany the Prelate and meet with His Holiness, the Pope, to discuss a policy change.”
“They’re serious?”
“Yes.”
Liam paused. “They’ll not go back on it?”
Deep regret passed over Father Murray’s features. “I understand your mistrust. But as far as I can tell, the offer is being made in earnest. In fact, a representative from the Prelate’s office is on his way and should arrive this evening. The Grand Inquisitor of the Northern Hemisphere is already here.”
“Grand Inquisitor? Sorry, Father, but that does not in any fashion sound good.”
“To be honest,” Father Murray said. “I’m not sure it is. But his stated reasons for being present are to see to it that the tests are scientifically accurate by Church standards. If nothing else, his presence means my proposal for a new category of preternatural being is no longer being considered an outlandish suggestion from a battle-fatigued Guardian. The matter is under serious debate.”
“Your proposal?”
Father Murray nodded. “Well? What’s your answer to be?” During the entire conversation he had restricted his gaze to the floor as if he were afraid.
Liam weighed the situation and for the first time felt he had a real choice that would alter not only his life but the lives of others in a positive way. However, he had to admit that with the exception of Father Murray, he didn’t trust anyone in the fucking building.
On second thought, sometimes he didn’t trust Father Murray either.
A Grand Inquisitor for fuck’s sake.
Liam shivered. The Fey needed the truce. That hadn’t changed.
What would Mary Kate have said to this?
That was easy. His Mary Kate, in spite of the temper she’d had on her—perhaps even because of it—had been for peace and civil rights. She’d have done anything to make a positive change. She was brave and fierce, was his Mary Kate.
Not like me.
Liam shivered. The Fey needed the truce. That hadn’t changed.
What would Mary Kate have said to this?
That was easy. His Mary Kate, in spite of the temper she’d had on her—perhaps even because of it—had been for peace and civil rights. She’d have done anything to make a positive change. She was brave and fierce, was his Mary Kate.
Not like me.
This is a real chance to get away out of here. No more locks and guards.
He needed out, to breathe free air.
Leave it to someone else. Another of the Fey could take his place. Let them pay the price in blood.
But which? His da?
He needed out, to breathe free air.
Leave it to someone else. Another of the Fey could take his place. Let them pay the price in blood.
But which? His da?
You’re a coward.
I’m not. I’ve done my bit.
Four more days. Four.
It seemed like forever.
It seemed like forever.
His choice. His chance. He thought again of Mary Kate. “All right,” Liam said. “I’ll stay.”
Father Murray finally shifted his gaze from the floor. His relief was obvious. “Thank you, Liam.”
A shift had taken place. One Liam wasn’t entirely clear on, but he could feel it. For the moment, he wasn’t a wee piece of a greater plan—a broken pawn that could easily be discarded for little cost. He was an equal. It felt fine. “Can I ask for something?”
“Of course.”
“Is there any way of getting music in this place? A radio? Or a record player? I’m dead bored.”
“I’ll arrange it.” Father Murray went to the cabinet, fetched a second mug and took over making the tea. “Now tell me about what just happened.” He retrieved the milk from the refrigerator.
“It won’t make any sense.”
“It’s all right. Go on.” Worry carved a deep line between Father Murray’s eyes.
And just like that, the feeling of wholeness vanished. Liam swallowed rising anger. It left a bitter taste on his tongue. The water in the electric kettle roared ever louder until Father Murray switched it off. He finished with the tea and handed Liam the second steaming mug. The taste of freshly brewed tea was some comfort. Liam latched onto it like an anchor while he attempted to think of an intelligent way to explain. When the silence stretched a wee bit long he gave up. “I’m… going off my nut,” he whispered. “Was Haddock. He’s here.”
Father Murray sat at the table with his tea. “He’s dead.”
“Aye, so I told him.” Liam laughed and hated the raw terror that escaped his throat in the sound.
“It was a nightmare.”
“Right. A fucking nightmare that almost smothered me in my bed.” Liam took a sip from a shaking cup.
“You’re serious.”
“Can ghosts haunt people, Father?”
“It’s possible, I suppose.”
Gazing into the steaming cup, Liam attempted not to think about the things Haddock had said and failed.
Father Murray said, “I’ll check on a few things. And let you know. In the meantime, try not to worry.”
Easy enough for you to say.
Liam nodded.
Liam nodded.
“How about some breakfast?” Father Murray asked. “You’ve not eaten in some time.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll make toast.”
Liam rushed through the afternoon’s battery of psychological tests as fast as he could. It was hard to not think of the consequences weighing on his answers. Once or twice he thought he spied Haddock’s ghost, but each time he checked there was nothing there. Father Stevenson, the priest who had administered the new series of examinations, seemed not to take notice.
Stevenson’s American accent reminded Liam of a mixture of cowboy films and Elvis Presley. He was also suffering from a bad cold which unfortunately made him more difficult to understand. He was thin and wore a beard like Father Murray. However, while Father Murray had a studious fisherman’s air about him, Father Stevenson would’ve passed for a New York Beatnik but for the layers of wool, the mildly aristocratic John Wayne accent, and the friendly smile. Strangely, that smile only made Liam trust him less.
When the tests were finally done three armed guards escorted Liam and Father Stevenson down the hallway back to the observation room. Liam thought the inconsistency of the security measures bordered on comical. Why so many guards and yet rely upon simple locks and steel doors to keep him confined? They seemed unable to make up their minds whether he was more powerful than a normal human being or not. Liam kept an eye out for Haddock, but he didn’t make another appearance. When Father Stevenson opened the Observation Room door, Liam entered first and spied Father Murray sitting at the table in the kitchenette, having a cup of tea. He’d returned from whatever errand had called him away that morning.
“Afternoon, Joseph,” Father Stevenson said.
“Thaddeus.” Father Murray smiled and nodded. He abandoned his tea and entered the sitting room.
Feeling anxious, Liam went to his room. He’d had enough of being poked, prodded and observed. He needed a run and decided to talk to Father Murray about going up to the roof. Liam heard quiet murmuring from the sitting room but ignored the conversation. Father Murray would let him know the results soon enough. Once more, Liam struggled with the urge for certainty and the comfort of ignorance. Bored, he looked for something suitable for a run and noted he was down to the last clean shirt. Either he would have to start doing his washing in the tub or it was time to ask Father Murray if there was a laundry service.
Bet they’re experts at removing bloodstains. Bastards.
Bet they’re experts at removing bloodstains. Bastards.
“Liam?”
“Yes, Father?” Liam returned to the sitting room. Father Stevenson was gone. Liam noticed a cardboard box resting on the table next to the sofa. “What’s this?”
“A record player. Compliments of Bishop Avery,” Father Murray said. “Give me a moment. I need to ring someone.”
“All right.”
“In the meantime, why don’t you set up the record player?”
Liam nodded, picked up the cardboard box and then took it to his room. He set the box on the built-in desk and opened it. He was shocked to find several albums from his and Mary Kate’s former record collection. All six record albums were used and a bit scratched. Their collection had consisted of older Rolling Stones, Bad Company, Thin Lizzy, and Rory Gallagher for the most part because most had been gifts from Oran who didn’t venture much beyond the bounds of hard rock. Still, it was good stuff. Retrieving the first album from the box, a copy of Rolling Stones’s
Sticky Fingers
, Liam touched its surface and read Mary Kate’s handwriting on the edge with something approaching awe.
Our first record! With love, Mary Kate.
It still smelled of their flat, and he was immediately transported to a happier time. Mary Kate had splurged and bought the record new. It had been her favourite, and she’d played the thing over and over for a week when she’d first gotten it. Not that he’d minded, of course, particularly when she’d done him a strip tease to “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.”
Sticky Fingers
, Liam touched its surface and read Mary Kate’s handwriting on the edge with something approaching awe.
Our first record! With love, Mary Kate.
It still smelled of their flat, and he was immediately transported to a happier time. Mary Kate had splurged and bought the record new. It had been her favourite, and she’d played the thing over and over for a week when she’d first gotten it. Not that he’d minded, of course, particularly when she’d done him a strip tease to “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.”
A slow smile crept across his face at the memory.
He ripped into the rest of the contents one-handed, discovering a black, square record player with a big speaker in the front panel. Getting it out of the box wasn’t easy, and he supposed he should’ve asked for help rather than risking dropping the thing, but he couldn’t bring himself to wait. He plugged it into an electrical socket, and then popped the silver latches on the sides. The lid yawned open, releasing the scent of plastic and factory glue. While it wasn’t what one would call top of the line, it was a much nicer model than the one he and Mary Kate had owned. For one thing, it was new and for another, it was possible to stack more than one album on the spindle.
Carefully placing the needle on the fourth track of
Sticky Fingers
, he turned up the volume to its maximum. The speaker let out a few hisses, pops and crackles to let him know it was in working order. Then he threw himself onto the bed, got comfortable and closed his eyes. The opening guitar riffs blasted into the room, and Mick Jagger launched into “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.” Taking a deep breath, a strange sensation surfaced. It was almost as if the memory of Mary Kate were someone else’s. So much had happened. In spite of everything, he’d been so happy. He’d had everything he could’ve wanted, and he hadn’t even known it at the time. Grief ambushed him, snagging his chest in a crushing grip.
Sticky Fingers
, he turned up the volume to its maximum. The speaker let out a few hisses, pops and crackles to let him know it was in working order. Then he threw himself onto the bed, got comfortable and closed his eyes. The opening guitar riffs blasted into the room, and Mick Jagger launched into “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.” Taking a deep breath, a strange sensation surfaced. It was almost as if the memory of Mary Kate were someone else’s. So much had happened. In spite of everything, he’d been so happy. He’d had everything he could’ve wanted, and he hadn’t even known it at the time. Grief ambushed him, snagging his chest in a crushing grip.
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