And Blue Skies From Pain by Stina Leicht Read Free Book Online Page B

Polaroid camera from the tray.
    “Stand, please.”
    Liam bit back another retort and slid from the table. Under Father Conroy’s intense gaze, Liam struggled with shame. This is nothing, he told himself. I’ve been through worse, so I have. But if he touches me, I’ll fucking knock him flat.
    Father Conroy snapped photographs while Liam turned, front, sides and back. The Inquisitor took a closeup of the commemorative Bloody Sunday tattoo on Liam’s upper arm and paused when he spied Liam’s back and shoulder. “What is this scarring from?”
    “What’s it fucking look like?” Liam asked.
    Father Murray cleared his throat and gave him the look he usually saved for unruly school boys—a stare that Liam was intimately familiar with. “Liam was injured by a car bomb. He was hit with shrapnel,” Father Murray said.
    Liam noted the half-truth and found it reassuring to see that Father Murray didn’t trust the Inquisitor either.
    “It was injured?”
    “Please, Father Conroy. His name is Liam.”
    “Oh. Yes,” Father Conroy said, pausing. “Was… did Liam sustain severe injuries?” He gave the name emphasis as evidence of his compliance.
    “Again, what the fuck—”
    “Liam.” Father Murray frowned.
    Liam inhaled and held his breath. He waited until he was sure his heart had slowed, and then he spoke. “Sorry, Father.”
    Father Murray took over, reciting a list of broken bones and hurts that Liam hadn’t been aware of. A lacerated spleen? I had a lacerated spleen?
    “How long ago was this?” Father Conroy asked.
    Again, Liam let Father Murray answer. “Last month.”
    “The burns look as if they healed several years ago.”
    “He heals fast,” Father Murray said.
    “Interesting.” Father Conroy returned to his cart and made some notes on his clipboard. “How fast?”
    “Three days. That time. There are exceptions. But I’m at a loss as to the mitigating factor. He suffered a broken collarbone several weeks ago. It’s still not completely healed.”
    Liam couldn’t decide if that statement was strictly a lie or not. His father had explained in no uncertain terms that impulsively throwing oneself against a one ton limestone boulder that later turns out to be made of meteoric iron ore anchored in place by powerful druids is not exactly the brightest idea—not that there’d been other options at the time. Liam allowed Father Murray’s half-truths to slip by and focused on the cinderblock wall while the two priests discussed the details of his medical history—that is, the details Father Murray was willing to give. After the conversation ended, Liam feigned patience while his temperature was taken and his eyes, ears, nose and throat were checked. Father Conroy’s movements were precise and professional, but Liam remained vigilant. Everything was going smoothly enough until Father Conroy’s stethoscope made contact with Liam’s naked chest.
    Liam flinched with a yelp. “Where do you keep that fucking thing? The icebox?”
    Father Conroy leaned backward with an apologetic smile. “I always forget about that. I’m sorry.” He breathed on the end a few times and then rubbed it on his lab coat before trying again. “Is that better?”
    Liam blinked at the display of sympathy. “Aye.”
    Resuming his professional attitude, Father Conroy parroted standard requests for deep breaths. Then he looped the stethoscope around his neck and made a few notes. “Now. Open your mouth again, please.”
    Liam cooperated. Father Conroy swabbed the inside of his cheek and then painted the sample on the surface of a Petri dish. With that done, Father Conroy selected a scalpel from the tray. Liam tried not to shy away from the blade as Father Conroy gently scraped the back of his hand. The results were transferred to a second Petri dish. Next, Father Conroy took his pulse, frowned to himself while jotting down the result and then picked up a blood pressure cuff.
    After much fussing with the cuff’s bulb and