Read And Blue Skies From Pain Online
Authors: Stina Leicht
And Blue Skies From Pain (33 page)
“I’d never hurt her! I love her!”
Bran nodded. “I know, son. That’s the problem.”
Liam blinked.
“Eat. It’s going to be a long day.”
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Suit yourself,” Bran said and went back to packing.
Liam stared at the now cold bowl of boiled oats. He’d lied. He was hungry. However, he didn’t want to eat. He wasn’t sure about putting on the necklace either. It came to him that such thoughts were a form of self-punishment. He was angry at forces outside himself. Forces which had hurt him and at which he couldn’t strike back. He was angry with his father, his mother, Mary Kate, the Provos, and God as well, if the truth were told, and this was that anger turned against himself—the only target he had remaining. Suddenly, none of those feelings made any sense at all. So, he slipped the leather cord over his neck. Still, he didn’t know what to do with any of his feelings. So, the resentment condensed into a hard knot in his belly, turning his stomach. He couldn’t bring himself to eat the oats. Glaring at the congealing bowl, he compromised by finishing the last of the toast. “What do you have planned?”
“You’re to start the training today. But first, we’re visiting a friend of yours. One Joseph Murray, priest.”
“He’s in hospital.”
“So he is.” Bran walked across the room to the back wall and whispered something in ancient Irish before emptying the bowl of cold oatmeal out a broken window. From the sound of it, Liam guessed it was some sort of blessing or offering. Crow cries echoed off the shattered buildings. Bran turned his attentions to finishing the packing. Done with the dishes, he proceeded to the bedding.
“The hospital will be watched,” Liam said, getting up to help. He was still exhausted and achy, but he felt a little better after the toast.
“That is of no consequence. The truce has been extended.”
“It has?”
“Aye,” Bran said with a small, prideful smile. “The Fey owe you a debt.”
Liam shrugged.
“It was a brave thing done. I’m proud of you, son.”
Swallowing a strange combination of joy and bitterness, Liam gritted his teeth.
I don’t need your approval. I don’t.
But the truth was, he did and he fucking well knew it.
I don’t need your approval. I don’t.
But the truth was, he did and he fucking well knew it.
“The holy man will meet us.”
Liam paused. “He’s well enough to leave hospital?”
“We will see him in the waiting place inside the building.” Bran accepted the last of the bedding and returned it to its cloth bag in a tight roll.
Liam found himself in the Belfast City Hospital waiting room, fighting bad memories and wishing like hell he were anywhere else. The nightmares were sure to return. They always seemed to after he set foot inside a hospital building. He watched anxious strangers read books, pray for family members, or pace, and wanted to feel hope for them. The air vibrated with anticipation, fear, and worry, making his back muscles tense to the point of pain. Even the stench of hospital disinfectant made his stomach clench. “This is stupid. I should not have come here.”
Bran appeared unconcerned.
“Did you not hear me? Why are we here?”
“No one will harm you. Not while I’m with you.”
“I’m not afraid!”
Turning, Bran tilted his head by way of a question.
Liam’s cheeks burned. “I hate hospitals.”
At that moment, a set of double doors swung open, and Father Murray shuffled through. He was dressed in a white terrycloth robe, red plaid pajama trousers, a faded blue hospital gown and black slippers. His face was pale, and his lips were pressed together with the effort of walking. His right shoulder was swathed in bandages, and his arm was encased in a cast and sling. Jumping from his seat, Liam took the heavy satchel from Father Murray and helped him to one of the plastic and steel chairs.
“You look different, Father,” Liam said, squinting as if studying the priest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve taken to listening to The Sex Pistols.”
Father Murray gave him a look—narrowed eyes and a slow frown stretched to hide a smile. Liam was relieved to see it. He watched as Father Murray unsuccessfully smoothed his hair left-handed.
“Father Thomas neglected to bring a comb. I suppose I should be thankful he remembered the razor. Nice jacket. Planning on a motorbike journey with Brando later?”
Liam held up the hem of Conor’s leather jacket. “This? It’s the latest. Didn’t you know? Thinking of having my photo snapped next to a chain-link fence in a bit. Care to join me? You’d fit right in.”
Father Murray’s stern expression transformed into a smile. “It’s good to see you, Liam.”
“You too, Father.”
Bran got up. “I’ll return when you’ve finished.”
“You’re leaving?” Liam asked.
“We should talk. Alone,” Father Murray said. “For a little while.”
“Go with the holy man,” Bran said.
“Why?” Liam asked.
“Come, Liam. Let’s sit in one of the prayer rooms where it’s quiet.” Father Murray got up with some effort.
Danger. Get out. Now,
the monster snarled from shadowy depths.
Enemy.
the monster snarled from shadowy depths.
Enemy.
Liam thought back at it,
What is it? Why?
What is it? Why?
“Come on,” Father Murray said.
“I’d rather not stay.” Liam watched his father vanish among the grieving and an uneasy feeling oozed down his spine.
“Believe me, I’d have met you far from here if I could,” Father Murray said.
Liam was slammed with guilt.
Was me that put him here.
“It’s all right, Father. I’ll go with you.”
Was me that put him here.
“It’s all right, Father. I’ll go with you.”
“We’ll keep this to a minimum,” Father Murray said. “I promise.”
“What’s this about?” Liam asked, following Father Murray through another set of swinging doors and down a hallway. He hadn’t walked far before a man in a black sport coat and tie bumped into him. For an instant, Liam’s nose was clogged with the stink of old gore. He got an impression of burn scars not quite covered by beard stubble when the man passed. Liam turned to look at his retreating back. The stench vanished as if it’d never been.
It was a couple of seconds before Liam realised that Father Murray had gone on without him.
“I understand you’ve had another encounter with Haddock.” Father Murray opened a door to one of the prayer rooms.
Liam could see through the doorway that it was plainly furnished with dark wooden pews and had faded white walls. A wooden cross was nailed to the wall opposite—positioned between two narrow windows. The place smelled one part mortuary and one part church. A lumpy priest dressed in vestments arranged a few items on the small make-shift altar positioned under the cross. An aura of quiet weighed the empty space enough to squeeze the air from Liam’s chest.
“And if I did see him again? What of it?” Liam paused before entering.
“Your father felt we should chat about it.”
Blinking, Liam said, “My father set you to head-shrinking me?”
Father Murray looked embarrassed. “Well, no. Not exactly. We should go inside before we discuss this further.”
Liam understood Father Murray needed to sit. The man appeared to be ready to fall over as it was. So, Liam relented, eventually settling onto one of the hard wooden pews. It seemed ironic that such an uncomfortable room was used as a place to seek comfort.
Father Murray winced as he eased into a pew. “Talk to me.”
Glancing to the front of the room, Liam said, “We’re not exactly alone, Father.”
“Sorry,” Father Murray said. “I forgot you hadn’t been introduced. Liam, this is Father Declan Thomas. Father Thomas, Liam Kelly.”
The big priest turned around. “Hello. We spoke on the telephone.”
“Oh.” Liam asked, “Why is he here?”
“I needed some assistance with certain details,” Father Murray said, slightly lifting his broken arm.
“Details?” Liam asked. “What details?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute,” Father Murray said. “Father Thomas, may we have a few moments alone?”
Father Thomas nodded and then headed for the door, locking it behind him.
Liam waited until the lock turned. “My da thinks I’m mental.”
“Liam—”
Jumping up from the chair, Liam began pacing. “Barking mad, more like. Tell me, Father. If I hadn’t gotten out of that… place when I did, I’d be in a padded room or worse, wouldn’t I?”
“I wouldn’t have condoned such a thing, neither would Father Stevenson.”
“Right. Fucking mental tests.” Liam pushed his hair out of his eyes.
“I trust Father Stevenson. And so should you,” Father Murray said. “He’s part of the reason the Church ruled to continue the truce. He testified in your behalf.”
Pausing, Liam then turned to face Father Murray.
“They’ve more questions, of course,” Father Murray said. “But we can deal with that later.”
“I’ll not be locked up. I’ll not go back.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Good.”
“Your father gave you a talisman,” Father Murray said. “May I see it?”
Liam shrugged and then reached inside his shirt collar, drawing out the horseshoe nail.
“That’s it?” Father Murray asked, incredulous. “May I have a closer look?”
“Aye.” Liam tugged the leather thong off over his head and dropped the nail in Father Murray’s open palm.
“What is it supposed to do?” Father Murray stared at the bit of leather-wrapped iron in his left hand.
Shrugging again, Liam said, “It disrupts Haddock’s ability to find me.”
That’s close enough to the truth, so it is. And vague enough at the same time.
He was ashamed of lying to Father Murray, but he’d given his word.
Tell no mortal.
That’s close enough to the truth, so it is. And vague enough at the same time.
He was ashamed of lying to Father Murray, but he’d given his word.
Tell no mortal.
“How?”
“It’s fucking meteoric iron. Magnetic even. Don’t ask. Makes no sense to me either.” Liam smelled a change in the room. He breathed deep and knew what it was at once.
Mary Kate. Why should I smell her here?
Mary Kate. Why should I smell her here?
“—for a blessing. Maybe something more, if needed,” Father Murray said.
Movement on the edge of Liam’s vision attracted his attention. He turned to see what it was and found a blank, antiseptic white wall.
“You need help fending off Haddock.”
Liam blinked. “You believe me?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Father Murray handed back the leather-wrapped nail.
Cramming the necklace in his jacket pocket, Liam asked, “And you don’t think I’m mad?”
Father Murray took a slow breath and released it. “You’re stronger than you think.”
“And you’re not answering the question.” Liam tried not to flinch as Father Murray stared deep into his eyes.
“You’ve been able to hold yourself together when most people wouldn’t.”
A derisive sound snuck out of the back of Liam’s throat. “And how would you know?”
“I’ve a PhD in psychology, remember?”
Liam sighed, feeling a little better. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Father? I mean, if I were going off my nut… you’d tell me?”
“I’ve watched you grow up. I consider you… well… family,” Father Murray said. “If I felt you were psychotic, I would tell you. But you’re not.”
“I’m normal?” Liam heard a distant laugh. It came from the other side of the door—he was sure of it. Nonetheless, he didn’t care for the sound or the timing and shivered.
“I wish you wouldn’t use those words. ‘Normal.’ ‘Mad.’ We’re discussing things which should be dealt with on more specific terms.” Father Murray sighed. “I’d say you were a bit frayed about the edges, but normal enough. Do you want to know what Father Stevenson said regarding your test results?”
Liam combed his fingers through his hair. Faced with actually knowing, he wasn’t sure he wanted the information after all.
He nodded.
“He said that you showed certain neurotic symptoms,” Father Murray said. “However, nothing severe or unusual given the stress you’ve been under.”
Feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen, Liam released the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He wanted to believe Father Murray in the worst way but couldn’t bring himself to place his faith in the diagnosis. How could he when everything his father’s people were—everything he was, hadn’t existed for the Church until recently?
Officially, we still don’t. Aye?
Officially, we still don’t. Aye?
“Why are you so worried about being insane?”
Liam didn’t know what to believe any more. He swallowed again. “Because Bran said I should.”
“He did? Why?”
“Because someone like me… He said half-breeds live part in this world and part the other. He said that can be… confusing.” Again Liam thought he sensed a presence on the edge of his vision, and again he looked only to see nothing there. The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened.
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