“She’s a strong and capable lass, that one, and has seen far worse. Besides, who said you look so bad? Not as handsome as my fine self, but then who is?” Sean whispered and gathered Julian up to help him stand. The circle of villagers parted and all bowed their heads as Julian, leaning heavily on his friend, passed by.
***
Ailís looked down at the nearly unconscious figure on her examination table. Julian’s once handsome features were red and bloated with swelling. It had taken all Ailís’s strength to look at him as Julian winced in pain with each breath. She closed her eyes, steadied herself and with the clinical detachment of an excellent physician, she set to work repairing Julian’s battered body.
His left eye was swollen shut. His right was just a slit. She thought “I lost myself in those gray eyes.” She had been able to straighten his nose. She looked at Julian’s lips. Those same lips she had found so soft, tender and gentle when she kissed them such a short time ago were dry and cracked and there were vicious wounds elsewhere on his face where fists had met skin.
A deep gash ran from below his cheekbone to his jaw. Her sutures were as small and tight as she could get them. Still, she knew even plastic surgery would never fully repair the scar.
She had no doubt but that he had many cracked ribs and she had wrapped his chest tightly. There were deep blue bruises all over his upper body. The bruising around his kidneys was especially worrisome.
Her eyes traveled to his face again and found that he had forced his right eye open somewhat. He swallowed hard, parted his lips and said, “Hurts” in a strangled whisper, before his head rolled to the side and he slipped into painless unconsciousness.
Ailís wept.
***
Julian was transferred from her surgery to one of the upstairs rooms. Ailís sat with him for several hours as he struggled to breathe. The least swollen of his eyes opened slightly and the foggy image of Ailís Dwyer appeared. Her smile was mixed with equal parts sympathy and relief. Through gasps, Julian said, “Ailís, please, don’t cry,” he pleaded. She stood up straight, drew a long breath and let it out slowly. The act served to let her gather herself and remember who she was.
“Timothy, go and get Mrs. Hagan and Mr. Maher. They are in the parlor. Tell them he is back among us,” Dr. Ailís Dwyer instructed her son standing outside the door.
***
Sean Maher approached the bed, “These vipers were serious. Why Julian, old son, this was the work of professionals. By the look of you, there were sap gloves involved. I know these things and few would have survived such a beating.”
Julian blew air through his dry lips to part them and said, “Lucky me. Sap?” the word ‘gloves’ was more than his mouth could stand.
“Sure it is. Leather gloves with led shot sewn across the knuckles. You could pulverize bricks with those on. Good thing your head is so hard, eh?” Sean said and tried to grin.
Moira Hagan slapped Sean on the arm and said with a snarl, “Chair, you oaf!” The big man rushed to the corner of the room and brought back a straight back chair.
Julian lay in bed and panted fearing the pain he knew would follow if he took a deep breath.
“Well,” Sean said to Julian as the big man returned with the chair and sat down, “it is good to say that you gave as good as you got, eh?”
“Not for you, ya great fool. The chair is for the doctor,” the Hagan snapped.
Julian looked like he was trying to work something out in his mind. At last he gave up trying to form the sentence and just settled for a mumbled, “What?”
“Your knuckles. Judging by the shape they’re in you smacked a few of ’em in the gob.”
Julian started to laugh, but the pain settled him quickly and the torment of it showed on his face. The doctor, Moira Hagan and Sean all winced.
Julian took the deepest breath he dared and then mumbled through cracked and broken lips, “They stood on my hands while they kicked me. I never landed a punch. Sorry, Sean.” Julian tried to smile as a tear ran from the corner of his eye.
The big man said quietly and as gently as he knew how, “Hush-a-bye now, it’s no matter we need to be paying to that. First we’ll get you well and then we’ll hunt these filthy creatures down and scores will be settled.”
Ailís approached the bed with a syringe in her hand. “Moira let me get in there. This will settle the pain and help him sleep.”
“Not now,” the Hagan said.
“What! This is my practice. I am the doctor here. He needs rest and a lot of it. That is the only way he is ever going to heal, so out of my way,” the doctor growled.
“Maher, help the doctor take a seat. I don’t want her upsetting our patient.”
Sean let out a groan, “Now, doctor darlin’. Here’s an idea – let’s the two of us rest over here. Oi know, let’s have a nice chat, shall we.”
“One more step Sean Maher and it is you who will be gettin’ the shot. After that, believe me, you…”
“Maher! Don’t make me repeat myself,” the Hagan snarled.
“Yes, Mrs. Hagan,” Sean said unhappily. Women, Sean decided, would be the death of him.
The big man feinted right, captured the doctor’s wrist and removed the needle easily. Picking her up with one arm, he walked with Ailís to the chair and deposited the enraged young woman. He positioned himself behind her and eased her back into the chair when she tried to stand.
“Enough, the both of you!” the Hagan roared and the room fell silent except for Julian’s short rasping breaths.
“I won’t lie to you, boyo,” Moira said. “This is going to be painful, but nothing you can’t endure and it will be over in just a moment. Then you’ll rest easy. Do you understand me?”
“No, don’t! You can’t afford it. Save it for yourself. You may need it more than I…” Julian whispered.
“It’s fine, son. I’ve been working my strength back up. There’ve been no more attacks and so I’m gettin’ myself back.”
“Moira, he thought to her, that is a lie. You can’t afford this. I’ll be fine. I may need it later. So save it for now.”
Her ability to project her own thoughts came and went, but she felt his words clearly enough. The attacks had continued, although not as concentrated as the last. She was weak and getting weaker.
“This is going to be hard on you, my dear, but it’s for the best,” Moira said tenderly.
Julian resigned, nodded and braced himself for more pain. “Moira?” Julian thought, “I’m sorry I failed you.”
The old woman rubbed her palms together slowly, reached out and set her right hand on Julian’s chest over his heart. He stiffened, arched his back in agony, and drew in a deep breath through his nose as the electric shock shot through him. His back arched again, the veins in his neck were distended and he let out a low cry of pain.
Ailís screamed, “Get away from him. Don’t you see what you’re doing?”
Julian settled back onto the bed still and stiff. He had felt a slight version of this once before when Bridget Bragonier, had touched him. The intensity had been nothing like this touch.
Ailís stood, knocking the chair backwards. Sean made no attempt to restrain her as she made a dash for the bed.
The doctor reached to push Moira Hagan away, but was silenced when Julian grasped her wrist gingerly. Sean Maher crossed himself, but took a step forward prepared to do battle with the witch if she hurt his friend again.
Julian seemed to go limp. His shoulders dropped and his head sank back onto the pillow. Moira took her hand away and Julian stopped panting and took a deeper first breath followed by another and another. These were not normal regular breaths, but they were better and Julian was grateful for the relief from pain.
“Now you two pull chairs up closer to the bed. We mustn’t ask our Julian to shout as he recounts what happened.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Ailís said angrily. “We must let him rest.”
“You’ll soon find out how nece
ssary, girl,” the Hagan said with a bleak smile.
***
With eyes closed, Julian was led through each detail of his ordeal by the firm, even voice of his teacher. She told him that he was not experiencing the events he described but observing them and reporting what he saw. In a featureless voice, he was able to describe each blow and more. The details painted a horrifying picture, but one with clues.
“Two questions. The man you describe as the leader, how tall was he in relation to you?” Moira asked. “How did he feel to you, what was your sense of him?”
“Not tall, under five foot eight inches I guess,” Julian murmured as he concentrated not on the pain that still wracked his body, but on his attackers. “Thinking on it now, he felt dark and angry, but not with me. I was just a punching bag. He was angry with whoever ordered this.”
Moira Hagan motioned for Sean to ask the next question. “Was he right or left handed?”
“How would I know? He was hitting me with both hands,” Julian answered. “And it all hurt.”
“Keep him talking,” Moira mouthed to Sean and he nodded once.
“Which hand seemed to have the most power behind it, boyo?”
Julian thought hard and tried to picture the man’s stance. “Left-handed, he was left-handed. There was less force behind the punches from his right.”
The Hagan nodded to Ailís Dwyer who had no idea what question to ask or why. At last, she said, “What color was his hair?”
“Red. Dark red. Sorry, I should have mentioned it before. I wasn’t thinking,” Julian answered wearily.
The doctor probed further. “Any marks, scars, anything? You said he rolled his sleeves up before,” she swallowed hard, “before he began.”
Julian’s forehead furrowed in intense thought and then cleared and he attempted to smile. “A tattoo of a spider on the inside of his left wrist. I saw it when he pulled on his gloves. I should have mentioned that too. I’m not very good at this. I’m afraid I’m a bad policeman.”
Sean smiled evilly. The information Julian provided would make finding the leader easier, but not easy. The spider was a prison tattoo. It was a start. “Julian, lad,” Sean began. “You said they thought you were laughing at them. Why would they think that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Julian said with what approximated to a smile. “That’s not true. It does matter a great deal, but it’s personal.” Sean and Ailís exchanged puzzled looks. Moira Hagan smiled slightly. He was unable to protect his thoughts and even in her condition, she read him easily.
They had taken him through it from beginning to end. Moira got up from her chair at the side of the bed. “Rest now, my boy. You did well. It is now for the three of us to put this puzzle together while you rest.” She bent over him and lovingly kissed his forehead.
Tears seeped from his eyes as he whispered, “I wasn’t ready. All your work and I failed you. I’m sorry.”
Moira kissed his cheek softly and a tear of her own mingled with his.
Ailís gave him an injection. Moira approached the doctor. “Stay with him. Ask him what he said that was personal. It will take you a few tries, but he’ll tell you, darlin’ and then you’ll know the truth of it. You’ll know it more clearly than you’ve ever known anything.”
Moira shook her head sadly as she looked at her student. Julian had thought of her even in his agony and how he had disappointed her. Moira whispered, “You don’t know how proud I am of you.” She closed the door softly behind her.
***
The door to Julian’s room opened a short time later and Ailís joined Moira in the hallway. The older woman looked at the doctor. The color had left Ailís’s face and she looked deeply troubled as she bit her lip and said, “What am I to do?”
Moira folded the doctor in her arms and Ailís Dwyer began to sob.
Chapter Twenty-five
The next morning the Hackett sisters and their apprentice arrived with satchels of potions and evil smelling ointments, plasters, and oddly colored poultices. After two hours, they finished and looked exceedingly pleased with themselves.
***
The room was dark when Julian awoke. The house was quiet as was the street outside. He could sense her nearby. He stretched out his fingers and could feel Ailís Dwyer’s soft chestnut hair. She was sitting beside his bed resting her head on the covers. Her even breathing told Julian she was asleep.
He gently stroked her hair and with that feeling, he fell away again.
***
For several days, Julian passed in and out of consciousness. Ailís entered his room as he was waking fully. She approached and simply stared at him. “Well,” she said grasping for something pleasant to say, “you look, well, festive.”
Julian couldn’t laugh. What didn’t hurt on his body was plastered over or otherwise bandaged. “Festive?” he asked.
“Well, yes, you look very festive. Believe me, that is important. It is far easier to treat people who are colorfully decorated.”
Julian tried to angle his good eye to see what she was talking about.
“It is much more difficult to deal with people who have simply been pulped to a natural black and blue state. No, you look much better in Technicolor.
“It can’t look as bad as it smells,” Julian said.
“I wouldn’t say that. You’ve not seen yourself,” she said and tried to smile. “You, of all people, should know there is a lot to the folk ways – and other ways – of Ireland.” She looked at him pointedly. “If it works, I’ll not argue. And, in truth, if it doesn’t work we’ve not lost anything. The Hacketts do what they do best and I do what I do best. We have a mutual understanding.”
“What do you mean, ‘of all people’?” Julian asked. “And what other ways?”
“Oh, people talk,” she hinted with a small smile.
“And when these people are talking what are they talking about?” Julian demanded. His tongue felt thick and his lips weren’t working all that well so his demand was only relative.
“What are you going to do? Threaten me if I don’t tell you? Are you going to jump out of that bed and come force the truth from me?” she asked making sure to keep out of reach. “Or is it your wizardry you’ll use on me? In any case you’ll not frighten me Julian Blessing,” she said and smiling mischievously, she sailed out of the room.
***
It had only been a few more days and already he was able to sit on the side of his bed. The swelling in his face and lips had gone down slightly and the deep black bruises had eased with a pale yellow cast. The cuts remained as angry reminders. Sutures had closed the deepest ones while butterfly bandages drew the skin together on the minor ones.
Ailís entered Julian’s room and smiled warmly when she saw him trying to get out of bed. “I’ll help you. Do you think you would be able to get dressed and take visitors tomorrow?” she asked.
Julian was quick with his answer. “Absolutely. I won’t even need much help if I have enough time and take it slowly.”
“So you’ve learned moderation, have you?”
“No, but pain has a way of reminding me that stupidity and excess will hurt like hell. Visitors? The police?”
Ailís looked at him in wonder. “You have lived among us for how long and still you know nothing a’tall. The police is it? Maybe in Dublin or some other big city and even then I doubt it. You are a genuine saint and the people of the valley and village will avenge the wrong that was done to you. The police can have what’s left,” she said in all seriousness.
“A saint? What are you talking about?”
“You honestly don’t know? You’ve not figured out your neighbors yet? For the love of God, you are a saint all right – the patron saint of eejits!
“I was going to let this wait ‘till tomorrow, but let me take a random sampling and show you what I mean,” Ailís said.
She tucked Julian back in bed and flew from the room. He could hear her moving through her house and down the stairs toward the s
treet. The front door opened, closed, and opened again a short time later. Shoes shuffled down the hallway toward his room and Julian slid deeper under the covers awaiting whatever fate Ailís Dwyer was bringing his way.
The door opened, Ailís stuck her head in and asked, “Are you decent enough to meet decent people? “ Julian shook his head no. “Good, I knew you would be.”
She ushered in two pair of sturdy farm people. “Mr. Julian, let me introduce Mr. and Mrs. Clooney and James McGraw and his missus.” The strapping men nodded and their stalwart ladies made abbreviated curtsies. “Don’t be shy, gather round the sick bed and have your say. You’re the first of his visitors so don’t hold back,” Dr. Dwyer instructed.
“’Tis wonderful to see you alive, Mr. Julian. No one in the village or here about can stop talking about the wondrous things you’ve done,” said Mrs. Clooney.
“Wondrous? Why it was nothing short of a miracle!” chimed in Mrs. McGraw.
“Well, I don’t know if it t’wer either wondrous or a miracle like, but what I do know it was two men’s share you did that night,” added James McGraw.
“You saved us all and it is in your debt we are,” said Mr. Clooney and the others chorused their assent.
Julian stared at his visitors and the doctor. His eyes were large and his breathing labored. He was a monument to confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about,” Julian said.
Dr. Dwyer smiled indulgently with her most professional doctor-smile and added, “You will understand there is much about that night that is still a little hazy to him what with the nasty business and all.”
“Ay, nasty business it was and it is a nasty and dark business that will be visited on them that raised a hand to you, yor honor.”
“True, true,” the visitors chorused.
The doctor said to the group, “We musn’t tax our poor Mr. Julian so if you would like to speak your minds…”
Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) Page 23