Read And Blue Skies From Pain Online
Authors: Stina Leicht
And Blue Skies From Pain (37 page)
I got you, you bastard!
Liam slowed, and after gliding a safe distance, landed. He transformed back into himself. Winded, his back felt bruised. He wondered at the state of his back and Conor’s jacket for a moment, but he judged neither was in bad enough shape to warrant stopping. There wasn’t time, anyway. He wouldn’t have the advantage for long. The annoying wig was still balanced on his head, and as far as he could ascertain, it was in the same state as it had been when the challenge had begun. He decided to pause long enough to catch his breath. He bent, grabbing his knees and breathing in great gulps of air. His trembling arms felt weak and rubbery. He didn’t think he could fly any more. The undergrowth had thinned out, and the spaces between the trees had grown wider. Reorienting himself, he caught glimpses of the stone wall surrounding the tower between the undergrowth. The challenge was almost done. When he could breathe without coughing, he continued on at a brisk run. His uncle was sure to arrive at any moment.
Liam slowed, and after gliding a safe distance, landed. He transformed back into himself. Winded, his back felt bruised. He wondered at the state of his back and Conor’s jacket for a moment, but he judged neither was in bad enough shape to warrant stopping. There wasn’t time, anyway. He wouldn’t have the advantage for long. The annoying wig was still balanced on his head, and as far as he could ascertain, it was in the same state as it had been when the challenge had begun. He decided to pause long enough to catch his breath. He bent, grabbing his knees and breathing in great gulps of air. His trembling arms felt weak and rubbery. He didn’t think he could fly any more. The undergrowth had thinned out, and the spaces between the trees had grown wider. Reorienting himself, he caught glimpses of the stone wall surrounding the tower between the undergrowth. The challenge was almost done. When he could breathe without coughing, he continued on at a brisk run. His uncle was sure to arrive at any moment.
Unless he hit that tree headfirst and hard enough to break his fucking neck. What if I killed him?
Then it serves him right,
the monster thought from the depths of Liam’s skull.
the monster thought from the depths of Liam’s skull.
The thought froze both triumph and anger out of Liam’s heart, and he stopped to listen for a sign that his uncle was still alive.
Someone was crying. Liam turned to the sound and that’s when he saw
her
huddled under the shadow of an ash tree.
her
huddled under the shadow of an ash tree.
Mary Kate.
All thought of his uncle and the trials was lost in an instant. He started to run to her but then brought himself up short.
Must be careful.
He slowly edged into her peripheral vision instead, in the hope that he wouldn’t startle and frighten her off. When she sensed his presence she lifted her head from her hands and turned toward him. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her cheeks were wet and blotchy.
Must be careful.
He slowly edged into her peripheral vision instead, in the hope that he wouldn’t startle and frighten her off. When she sensed his presence she lifted her head from her hands and turned toward him. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her cheeks were wet and blotchy.
He risked a question. “Are—are you all right?”
She blinked at him. His heart ached.
This is my fault, somehow, isn’t it? It was the way she died. I wasn’t there. I didn’t protect her.
“Can I help?” He stepped closer. “Are you hurt?”
“Can I help?” He stepped closer. “Are you hurt?”
Drying her face with the back of her sleeve, she sniffed and got to her feet. She was wearing the same ragged, long, white dress as before, only this time it wasn’t stained with blood. Her feet were muddy and bare. Her skin was so pale it was almost blue. She looked as though she’d been sleeping rough in the woods. The waves of her long, light brown hair were in tangles. She was thinner than he remembered too.
She tentatively stretched out a hand to him as if in question.
He risked getting closer yet until she was only a couple of feet away. “I’m Liam,” he said, not daring to breathe lest she bolt. “Do you remember me?”
“You’re… really here?” Her hand moved up to touch the awful horsehair wig with its mixture of brown, black, roan, white, and grey braids of varying thicknesses. She tilted her head, and the corners of her mouth turned upward.
“It’s fucking stupid isn’t it?” Liam reached up to pull it from his head but thought better of it. After everything he’d been through, he hated the thought of failing the test no matter the reason. “I can’t take it off. Not yet.” He glanced in the direction of the stone tower. “I should go. But I don’t want to leave you here alone. If someone has hurt you—”
“Liam,” she said. “It’s really you.”
The shock of hearing her speak his name outside of a dream for the first time in nearly two years sent a shiver of joy through him. He turned. The faint smell of her reached his nose.
I might still be dreaming.
“Aye. I am.” He paused. “You’re Mary Kate. Remember?”
I might still be dreaming.
“Aye. I am.” He paused. “You’re Mary Kate. Remember?”
“Of course I do.” She tilted her head in the other direction. Then she said, “Mary Kate Gallagher.”
He smiled and tenderly brushed a stray hair from her eyes. Remembering his father’s warnings, he took extra care not to make contact with her skin. “Mary Kate Kelly. Mrs. Kelly. My Mrs. Kelly.”
She laughed. He hadn’t heard that sound in so long. The ache in his chest, the one that had been with him from the moment he first spotted her, was burned away in a flash by the warmth of her laughter.
“Mrs. Kelly,” she said.
“So you are.”
She hesitated and her expression grew serious. Shifting close enough that he felt the brush of dirty, white linen against his body, she said, “And you’re my Mr. Kelly.”
He swallowed. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and keep her there forever, but he was terrified of what would happen if he did.
Would it hurt her?
He couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t. “I love you, Mary Kate. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’ve missed you so much.”
Would it hurt her?
He couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t. “I love you, Mary Kate. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’ve missed you so much.”
“You were gone. Lost,” she said. “I couldn’t find you.”
“Is that why you were crying, love?” He resisted another urge to smooth her hair—to hold her, kiss her.
Anything.
Anything.
A howl ripped through the trees. Afraid the Fianna were upon them already, Liam turned to check. The howl was repeated and then joined by others, a series of horn blasts and shouts. Mary Kate bolted in the opposite direction.
“Don’t!” He started after her. “They’ll not hurt you! Please! Don’t go!” He lost sight of her at once and then she was gone as if she’d never been there at all. For an instant he considered changing into the Hound to track her but dismissed the idea. Even if he could trust himself in that form there wasn’t time. Torn, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t leave her. The Fianna crashed through the trees. They had his scent now, that was obvious. He paused, took stock of where he was, and understood he’d headed in the wrong direction. Unfortunately, the Fianna were now between him, the wall, and the tower.
“Fuck.”
There was nothing left to do. She was gone and there was no bringing her back. He must finish the test, or the Fianna would finish it for him.
No other option. Survive now. Think later.
He’d hesitated too long. The only viable option was to risk flying, or he was done for. He took a deep breath, praying the change would be easy and fast—praying he could do it this time without the terror of falling. He closed his eyes and thought hard about what it’d felt like. To his surprise, the shift came to him with ease once again, and he was up and off in a flutter of wings. He flew over and past the Fianna, screeching a challenge upon seeing his uncle Sceolán. His uncle was after him in an instant.
No other option. Survive now. Think later.
He’d hesitated too long. The only viable option was to risk flying, or he was done for. He took a deep breath, praying the change would be easy and fast—praying he could do it this time without the terror of falling. He closed his eyes and thought hard about what it’d felt like. To his surprise, the shift came to him with ease once again, and he was up and off in a flutter of wings. He flew over and past the Fianna, screeching a challenge upon seeing his uncle Sceolán. His uncle was after him in an instant.
Liam didn’t waste time with tricks. He made for the stone wall and the tower with everything he had and reached his goal seconds before his uncle shot past. Landing at the bottom of the tower, Liam reverted to his human form once more. Exhausted emotionally and physically unable to stand, he fell back against the tower gasping his grief. She’d been with him. They’d spoken. And then the Fianna had come.
Stupid fucking test.
“That was some trick you pulled,” Sceolán said, rounding the edge of the tower.
Glancing up, Liam noticed his uncle had a rather large, bleeding lump on his head. Liam looked away and focused on filling his lungs with air, and hiding his grief. He held his breath until his heart slowed a little and then released it.
Don’t think about her now. Later.
“Are… you all right?” He swallowed his sorrow and dried his eyes with the back of his hand.
Don’t think about her now. Later.
“Are… you all right?” He swallowed his sorrow and dried his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Am.” Sceolán touched the lump on his forehead and winced. “Should’ve known what was coming. But you should’ve been more careful.”
“Careful?” Liam asked. “You’d have caught me.”
Sceolán smiled. “Exactly.”
Liam shook his head and took another long, deep breath. He forced the ache of losing Mary Kate again into a small, tight knot in the pit of his stomach where no one would see it. He could almost pretend it wasn’t there.
“Well, you’ll not need this anymore,” Sceolán said, pulling the wig free.
“Just when I was beginning to like it,” Liam said.
“Right. Pull the other one.”
Chapter 20
Belfast, County Antrim, Northern Ireland
December 1977
December 1977
L
iam returned to Clonard alone that night. This, after he’d lied to his uncle Sceolán. The lie had been necessary. He’d have preferred to have left unannounced on his own and avoided the lie altogether, but he couldn’t travel the border between the twilight and the mortal world by himself, and no one was willing to teach him the way of it, not yet. So, he’d made up a story about needing to see Father Murray. Sceolán, happy with the results of the trial and more concerned with whatever it was that Bran was up to, had agreed without taking much notice of the details. So it was that Liam had been able to return to the derelict with quite a lot of scrumpy and a strong urge to drink away memories of blood and death. It was better than giving in to heroin, so he told himself—not that smack was an option. As far as he knew there was none to be had in all of Belfast, not for the likes of him, anyway.
iam returned to Clonard alone that night. This, after he’d lied to his uncle Sceolán. The lie had been necessary. He’d have preferred to have left unannounced on his own and avoided the lie altogether, but he couldn’t travel the border between the twilight and the mortal world by himself, and no one was willing to teach him the way of it, not yet. So, he’d made up a story about needing to see Father Murray. Sceolán, happy with the results of the trial and more concerned with whatever it was that Bran was up to, had agreed without taking much notice of the details. So it was that Liam had been able to return to the derelict with quite a lot of scrumpy and a strong urge to drink away memories of blood and death. It was better than giving in to heroin, so he told himself—not that smack was an option. As far as he knew there was none to be had in all of Belfast, not for the likes of him, anyway.
He didn’t sleep well most nights, but speaking to Mary Kate’s shade had brought the old horrors back with fresh force—the pain of her dying, the guilt and rage. The being with her for those few moments had ripped at old wounds, leaving him bleeding again. He wanted to stay with her. He didn’t care how. So, he yanked the horseshoe nail from his neck and threw it across the room with all his might and drank, praying for sleep or death. The alcohol did its work, lulling him into a dreamless sleep. Although he caught the scent of her, she didn’t return to him.
So it was that Liam woke to being roughly shaken.
“Cross you! Wake up!” It was Bran, and by the sound of his voice he was not happy.
Liam didn’t bother to open his eyes. If he did, he’d be punished for it in ways he had no wish to suffer. “Fuck away off. I want to sleep.”
Bran proved to be annoyingly persistent and wouldn’t stop harassing him until Liam opened his eyes. Then Bran shoved the horseshoe nail in his face.
“Why are you not wearing this?”
Refusing to answer, Liam let his eyelids drop and relaxed as much as he could manage.
Don’t give him anything. He’ll give up and go away.
Liam was cold, freezing in fact, and a hangover dozed in his head and belly. It was going to be a real bastard, and he wanted to avoid meeting it face on as long as possible.
Don’t give him anything. He’ll give up and go away.
Liam was cold, freezing in fact, and a hangover dozed in his head and belly. It was going to be a real bastard, and he wanted to avoid meeting it face on as long as possible.
“Answer me!”
Liam pretended to pass out, not that being jostled made the pretense easy. His stomach was about to stage a protest that Bran wasn’t going to like if he continued. Fortunately before Liam got sick, Bran dropped him. The force of Liam’s skull thumping the floorboards spurred the hangover into instant action. An explosion of agony filled every corner of his skull. He moaned and grabbed his head. Ice-cold water slapped him in the face. And before he was aware, he was on his feet and bellowing. “Jesus Fucking Christ!”
“What is this? Do you want to die?”
“What the fuck does it matter?” Liam shoved Bran with both hands, but it was like throwing himself at one of the iron ore stones on Raven’s Hill. Bran didn’t budge.
“What is this?” he asked. “Sceolán said you were to stay with the priest. But Joseph Murray says he’s not seen you.”
“I said leave me be!”
“I don’t understand. What’s wrong? Sceolán said you passed your first trial.”
“Aye,” Liam said. “And that solves everything, doesn’t it?” His brain throbbed with terrible agony. Squinting against the harsh light, he staggered to the hearth. The fire was long dead, but he’d left the remaining bottles of scrumpy where he’d slept. With some pain, he retrieved a bottle, removed the cap, and took a long drink, hoping to pacify the hangover even a wee bit. His stomach twisted at the first taste of fermented apples.
Bran said, “Talk to me.”
Liam wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “What do you want to hear?”
Bran sighed. “The priest warned me.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“He said you weren’t to be alone. I’ll knock Sceolán’s head in—”
“It wasn’t Sceolán’s fault.” Resentful, Liam settled back down on the blankets. His stomach remained uncertain about its opinion of events.
“Then tell me what in Danu’s name is going on,” Bran said.
“You don’t know something?” Liam let out a short, bitter laugh. “How does it feel?”
Frowning, Bran stepped closer. Worry and fear were raw in his face. Liam shied away from it.
“All right,” Bran said. “This is punishment for something I’ve done, is it?”
Liam shook his head. “This has nothing whatsoever to do with you for a change.”
“I’ll not crossing leave. You’ll have to talk.”
It was Liam’s turn to sigh. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
“I was about to ask you that question.” Bran stretched a hand out for a scrumpy bottle. His eyebrow twitched by way of a request.
Liam nodded approval. He knew enough about the Fey now to know he shouldn’t refuse. It was bad enough that he’d not made the offer to begin with. “Nothing. I want nothing from you, do you hear?” He tried to keep his voice even. The headache was finally fading to a tolerable level, and he preferred to keep it that way. As for his stomach, he had a hunch that any sudden moves would be regretted.
Other books
Imperfections by Shaniel Watson
Texas Brides Collection by Darlene Mindrup
Futures Past by James White
Wonder When You’ll Miss Me by Amanda Davis
A Good-Looking Corpse by Jeff Klima
Nora Jane by Ellen Gilchrist
Marjorie Farrell by Autumn Rose
Nosferatu the Vampyre by Paul Monette
Witch Slapped (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 1) by Dakota Cassidy
Down and Dirty: SEAL EXtreme Team Short Story by Kimberley Troutte