understand. We must protect friends, loved ones. More than their lives—their souls. With so much at stake, it’s easy to forget ourselves. But shouldn’t our own humanity be a part of the humanity we protect?” Father Murray asked. “You’re a priest. One of God’s own. We end suffering. We don’t cause it. Please.”
One of the guards looked away and then the tension was gone.
The screw in charge said, “Let them pass. We’ll follow them to the examination room.” He spoke without moving his gaze from Father Murray. “Father Jenson, call the Inquisitor and tell him we’re on the way.”
Liam felt Father Murray’s steady presence under his left shoulder.
“Come on, Liam.”
They staggered past the screws and through the door. Once they were out into the hall, Liam whispered, “Nice wee speech, Father.”
“Save your breath,” Father Murray muttered back, returning the humor. “You’re going to need it.”
Liam whispered again, “Watch yourself. The guards. Something stinks like Raven’s Hill.”
Father Murray’s eyes widened and then he gave a brief nod.
Focused on warning Father Murray, Liam stumbled and squeezed his eyes shut against the flash of paralyzing pain gripping his shoulder and chest. Father Murray paused until Liam signaled he could continue. The screws gathered around, watchful.
He didn’t know how he made it to the examination room, but he did. Father Conroy was standing outside with a smug look.
“What happened?” Father Conroy asked.
“Why don’t I give you a copy of my report?” Father Murray asked.
Liam remembered stepping up to the examination table and at some point he’d lain down, that was obvious, but he couldn’t have said when. That moment and a few others were lost in a fog of pain. The next time he opened his eyes the screws were gone. That’s something. The where and why didn’t so much matter at present. The blanket was tugged out of his grip. Cold air brushed against his skin as his shirt was opened. He shivered.
“Interesting.”
“Is that all you can say? The guards almost killed him.”
A drawer slammed. Metal clinked against metal. “Then perhaps your experiment shouldn’t have tampered with the security system.”
“He tucked a chair under a doorknob. Does that warrant this kind of reaction, Gerry? Do you understand what will happen when Bran sees what they’ve done?”
The sharp smell of rubbing alcohol invaded Liam’s nose. A cold cloth wiped at his cheek. Someone was cleaning the blood from his face— Father Conroy, he assumed.
“Ask him why he did it,” Father Conroy said.
Liam tried to answer, but his mouth didn’t respond right away. His tongue felt too big for his mouth.
“What did he say?” Father Conroy asked.
“Liam?” Father Murray asked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Liam said. The words came out in a lisp. He tried to open his eyes and couldn’t for the most part. The left one was now swollen shut, and the right one wasn’t much better. He could only see through one watery slit. Both priests were very close. Father Conroy held a bloody bit of cotton wool in his hand. Liam stopped trying to see.
“There,” Father Murray said. “He did it so he could sleep.”
“You know that wasn’t the reason, Joseph.”
“What’s it going to take to convince you he’s human?”
More movement. A drawer slammed again. Papers fluttered. A ballpoint pen clicked.
“What are you doing?” Father Murray asked.
“We’re finished here. I’ve cleaned the wounds. Photographed and measured everything. Now we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Didn’t you say he heals for himself? I need to record how long it takes.”
“You can’t be serious,” Father Murray said. “You’re not going to set the shoulder? Or give him something for the pain?”
“I assume that would not only be a waste of materials but also might interfere with the results.”
“Help him, damn you! If you don’t, I’m taking him out of here
One of the guards looked away and then the tension was gone.
The screw in charge said, “Let them pass. We’ll follow them to the examination room.” He spoke without moving his gaze from Father Murray. “Father Jenson, call the Inquisitor and tell him we’re on the way.”
Liam felt Father Murray’s steady presence under his left shoulder.
“Come on, Liam.”
They staggered past the screws and through the door. Once they were out into the hall, Liam whispered, “Nice wee speech, Father.”
“Save your breath,” Father Murray muttered back, returning the humor. “You’re going to need it.”
Liam whispered again, “Watch yourself. The guards. Something stinks like Raven’s Hill.”
Father Murray’s eyes widened and then he gave a brief nod.
Focused on warning Father Murray, Liam stumbled and squeezed his eyes shut against the flash of paralyzing pain gripping his shoulder and chest. Father Murray paused until Liam signaled he could continue. The screws gathered around, watchful.
He didn’t know how he made it to the examination room, but he did. Father Conroy was standing outside with a smug look.
“What happened?” Father Conroy asked.
“Why don’t I give you a copy of my report?” Father Murray asked.
Liam remembered stepping up to the examination table and at some point he’d lain down, that was obvious, but he couldn’t have said when. That moment and a few others were lost in a fog of pain. The next time he opened his eyes the screws were gone. That’s something. The where and why didn’t so much matter at present. The blanket was tugged out of his grip. Cold air brushed against his skin as his shirt was opened. He shivered.
“Interesting.”
“Is that all you can say? The guards almost killed him.”
A drawer slammed. Metal clinked against metal. “Then perhaps your experiment shouldn’t have tampered with the security system.”
“He tucked a chair under a doorknob. Does that warrant this kind of reaction, Gerry? Do you understand what will happen when Bran sees what they’ve done?”
The sharp smell of rubbing alcohol invaded Liam’s nose. A cold cloth wiped at his cheek. Someone was cleaning the blood from his face— Father Conroy, he assumed.
“Ask him why he did it,” Father Conroy said.
Liam tried to answer, but his mouth didn’t respond right away. His tongue felt too big for his mouth.
“What did he say?” Father Conroy asked.
“Liam?” Father Murray asked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Liam said. The words came out in a lisp. He tried to open his eyes and couldn’t for the most part. The left one was now swollen shut, and the right one wasn’t much better. He could only see through one watery slit. Both priests were very close. Father Conroy held a bloody bit of cotton wool in his hand. Liam stopped trying to see.
“There,” Father Murray said. “He did it so he could sleep.”
“You know that wasn’t the reason, Joseph.”
“What’s it going to take to convince you he’s human?”
More movement. A drawer slammed again. Papers fluttered. A ballpoint pen clicked.
“What are you doing?” Father Murray asked.
“We’re finished here. I’ve cleaned the wounds. Photographed and measured everything. Now we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Didn’t you say he heals for himself? I need to record how long it takes.”
“You can’t be serious,” Father Murray said. “You’re not going to set the shoulder? Or give him something for the pain?”
“I assume that would not only be a waste of materials but also might interfere with the results.”
“Help him, damn you! If you don’t, I’m taking him out of here
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