Saints or Martyrs?

Connor looked down at his brother's dark hair. Murphy was flat on his stomach, right arm hanging off the bed. His injured left arm was tucked under his chest in a sling. Murphy was sleeping soundly finally. Connor had finally ended up stretching out beside him stroking his dark hair every time he whimpered in his sleep.

Yawning he sat up and fumbled for his pants pulling out a cigarette. Feeling the movement of the bed, he made it two.

“How are ye feeling?” he asked as he handed one over to Murph.

“Like I've been fuckin tortured.” Murphy shot back taking a deep drag from the cigarette.

“That doctor Smecker called gave me some pills for ye. I'll get ye one then I need to change the bandages.” Connor said standing up and heading for the kitchen.

Murphy managed to struggle into his jeans and even get them zipped and buttoned one handed.

Rather than wait for Connor he made his way into the kitchen to find Connor rummaging around for bandages and the antibacterial ointment they had started keeping on hand.

Connor pulled out a chair. “Yer back is no so bad, only a few of the welts broke tha skin. Sit down.” Connor began peeling the tape holding the dressing in place.

“Fer fucks sake just pull it off.” Murphy said. “Tis more painful wit ye trying ta peel it off like that.”

Connor ripped the dressing off as Murphy hissed. He quickly dabbed at the few cuts before applying the ointment. “I think it's okay without a bandage as long as ye don't try to put on a shirt. Let me see yer arm.” He said pulling up the other chair and sitting down.

*****

Lilith was having her own problems. Her eyesight was not improving. Thankfully she had an imp willing to assist her. What had the bastard spit in her face? The imp was off somewhere trying to find out while she sat in this common Holiday Inn with nothing to do but think.

She was still in a snit over Lucifer's actions. Ungrateful wretch! After all she'd done for him over the eons he was still bitching about the damned carpenter's son. 2000 years and he was still holding a grudge. How was she supposed to know that the the man was divine? It's not like he had been born the King of the Jews.

And these Macmanus Bothers! Saints? They drank like fish and cursed like sailors. And if Murphy was anything like Connor they hadn't missed out on the lust part either, men weren't born with skills like that. There couldn't be enough piety in heaven and earth to make up for their multitude of sins yet if Lucifer were to be believed, God waited with open arms to raise them to his side.

She looked up as the door opened. The imp was returning, but he was not alone. He was accompanied by another demon in the guise of an kindly looking older man, Labasu.

“Lilith, it has been some time.” The old man said as he took her hands in his. “The imp tells me that you had a run in with a non beatified saint. Something about your eyes?”

“My vision is blurred, he spit in my face and it got into my eyes.” She replied.

“Just saliva? It should not affect you. As long as he was non beatified his spit should be no different than the spit of any other human, completely inert. Only his blood should be toxic at this point.” The old man said tilting her face up toward him.

“He had bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood.” She answered.

“Saint's blood.” The old demon nodded and placed his hands over her eyes. She felt a momentary searing heat before he lowered his hand. “Better now?” He asked.

“Yes.” Lilith blinked “I can see clearly.”

“Had he been beatified there would have been nothing that anyone could do. You need to take more care in choosing your victims.” Labasu looked at her. “I understand Lucifer has denied you your powers. Because he was a saint?”

“I didn't know that! I thought they were just humans being used by the creator.” Lilith said. “How was I to know these MacManus brothers were of any importance. They carry themselves like sinners.”

“You know Lilith for one so old you are woefully ignorant. Each day that passes brings the final battle closer.” Labasu conjured a large book and handed it to her. I suggest you inform yourself, you will understand why Lucifer has always been loathe to tangle with saints.”

*****

“Murph, ye still up?” Connor said as he entered the small apartment they shared. “I figured ye would go back ta sleep after ye took yer pill.”

Connor walked over and sat the bags on the counter. He pulled out a couple of medication bottles and set them on the counter. “More pain pills and antibiotics. Tha doctor was concerned wit yer arm getting infected.” Connor was reading the label on the antibiotic. “Well looks like I get double beer rations! Ye can't drink alcohol while yer taking this. But I did take pity on ye.” Connor pulled out a six pack of O'Doul's with a flourish. “Non-alcoholic beer!”

“Whatever.” Murphy said.

Connor turned around concerned. Murphy should have been cussing up a storm over non-alcoholic beer. Connor saw why Murphy was distracted. Sitting in front of him on the table was the box.

“Tha bitch took it away from me Connor. She took a straight razor and cut off a piece o me and put it in a box.” Murphy pulled out the piece of skin and laid it on the table. “The crazy thing is I feel like I should be more...I don know upset I guess.” Murphy picked up a box of salt and poured some into the box then placed the tattooed flesh on top of it before adding more salt.

“What are ye doing?” Connor asked.

“Salting it. Maybe it will work like when Ma used to salt fish to preserve it.” Murphy said. “When we come across her again, I want to make sure she remembers.”