And Blue Skies From Pain Read Online Free PDF

graceful arc. As last sights went, it really wasn’t bad. He took in another slow breath to prepare himself and almost tasted grass, damp earth and the spotty boy’s stinking aftershave mixed with the smell of stale cigarettes.
    Cigarettes. He opened his mouth to request a smoke—an attempt at one last chance for life—when he heard a soft sound, and the gun was snatched from the back of his neck. He turned just as the spotty boy dropped to the ground.
    “I ainm Danu, cad atá ar siúl agat?” In Danu’s name, what are you doing?
    Liam turned his head to see the speaker. A tall man with shoulder-length blond hair exited the hedge. There was no point of entry or exit at the spot where he had appeared. This, of course, wasn’t the only thing that was out of the ordinary about him. He was also dressed in clothes that belonged in a university history textbook and was armed with a bronze-tipped spear. A round shield looped over one shoulder by the leather strap completed the ensemble.
    Liam feigned a casual attitude regarding his uncle’s dramatic entrance while a rush of emotions flooded his brain—anger, disappointment and shame. Gazing down at the spotty boy, he asked in Irish, “Did you kill him?”
    “What would I do a stupid thing like that for?” Sceolán asked. “It’s asleep, he is. He’ll be fine when he wakes.”
    Staggering to his feet, Liam gave the limp form two good solid kicks. “Perhaps not as fine as all that.”
    “Stop that now,” Sceolán said. “We’ll be late as it is.”
    “You took your time in coming.” Picking up the rifle, Liam searched his former captor’s pockets for a second clip and was rewarded. He pocketed it and slung the Kalashnikov over his shoulder.
    “Was looking for you back at the priest’s house where you’d called out. If you’d had any patience at all I’d have found you there and not here on the verge of getting your brains blown out. Crossed foolish of you. You are half mortal, you know. There’s no promise you’ll come back from it, and you’ll not impress the Fianna, acting the hot-headed wean.”
    Liam hid his embarrassment and anger by glaring at the ground.
    “You’ve no worry. I’ll not breathe a word of this foolishness. Although, I should, and the tongue-lashing you would get for it would serve you right.”
    Accepting the cloth his uncle held out, Liam wiped the blood from the side of his face. “Aye, well… thanks.”
    “You’re welcome.” Sceolán pointed to the rifle. “I thought you’d retired from the fighting.”
    “The wee fuck will have an easier time explaining if the gun is missing. They might not even shoot him.” Liam straightened and then joined Sceolán at the stone wall. “Anyway, it may come in handy.”
    Sceolán turned, giving him a raised eyebrow. “I thought this was to be a negotiation?”
    “Aye. Well, I’ve had dealings with the Bishop’s lads before. They’re not much for listening without strong motivation.”
    Liam watched Sceolán scramble up and over the wall, exhibiting a grace that wouldn’t normally have been seen in someone his age, but then, a mortal Uncle Sceolán’s age was normally moldering in a thousand-year-old burial mound. Liam climbed the wall with far less skill and ease. His collar bone was still healing, and it ached from time to time—particularly if he wasn’t careful and, truth be told, he hadn’t been careful over the past hour or so.
    “Can I ask you a question?” Liam asked, finally working up the nerve. There wasn’t much time. Soon he’d be living in what equated to a prison cell for an indefinite period of time, being examined by surgeons who weren’t certain he was human. When he thought about it, that wasn’t terribly different from Long Kesh, and here he was volunteering for it. He shuddered. “There’s something I need to know. Was the reason I’d called for you.”
    Sceolán nodded.
    “Do you dream?” Liam asked.
    Pausing, Sceolán glanced over his