Galway Girl

Galway lost the All Ireland by one point.

One damn point, which, in hurling, is like nothing.

We didn’t begrudge Limerick the win so much as they’d waited forty-five years for the title and the Liam Cup still crossed the Shannon.

In Galway, Jericho pulled herself from a deep, untroubled sleep, stretched like the feline she was, then began to roll a spliff. Her lover stirred slowly, purred,

“Come back to bed, babe.”

Jericho lit the spliff with the Zippo she’d stolen from Jack Taylor’s apartment. She truly got off on breaking in there, leaving weird things behind — this time, a small statue of Shiva, thought,

“The dumb bollix probably thought it was a Marvel figurine.”

But,

She had to admit he was showing a resilience that surprised her, knew she would have to kill him soon, but it was such a rush to mind-fuck him.

Her lover sat up, reached for the spliff as her other hand traced the tattoo etched on Jericho’s back; it was of the Archangel Azrael.

“The Angel of Destruction, known as a sibling of Lucifer.”

She moved in front of Jericho, her naked body as a lure.

Jericho had been fingering a chain around her neck, the tiny gold pendant with two letters,

GG.

The second G was almost emerald.

She slipped it off, put it round the neck of her lover, who purred, guessed,

“GG, is that good grief?”

Jericho was very quiet, then said,

“Galway girl.”

Her lover knew not to push,

Asked,

“What’s the plan today?”

Jericho smiled with utter malevolence, asked,

“How’d you like to kill a nun?”

After they had arranged a batch of very sharp knives, Jericho paused, asked,

“Is there one with a serrated blade?”

Her lover laughed, asked,

“What does it matter?”

Jericho said,

“The serrated edge makes the pain sharper.”

Her lover was puzzled, so Jericho said,

“Nuns, they practice exquisite pain, it’s part of their gig.”

Her lover asked,

“But what’s the point?”

Jericho gave a full smile, laden with witchery, said,

“Bonus points: more pain, more glory.”

Her lover said,

“Sounds nuts.”

Jericho sneered,

“They’re nuns, they married God, and you want them to be sane as well.”