'You fucker!' cursed Danny breathlessly. 'What the hell are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.' Danny stared at the bird: his mind scrabbling to make sense of what he was seeing. 'What the hell d'you want with me, Morrigan? Tired of "guarding my death"?'

The bird's nicotine-yellow beak opened wide and let out a loud squawk as if it were answering him back.

Danny had been fascinated by the story of the Morrigan ever since he'd read about it in school. In Irish mythology the Morrigan was the goddess of slaughter who took the earthly form of a crow. She was a harbinger of death: when she appeared on the battlefield she was said to be waiting to devour the souls of the dead.

'If you think I'm going to just lie here and let you watch me die, you're wrong,' said Danny. He pressed his knuckles onto the ground and pushed himself into a squat. From there after a lung-searing effort he raised himself up to a standing position and faced the crow. With arms spread wide open in a grand gesture of defiance, Danny summoned every ounce of energy he had left.

'Come ahead, ya bastard, c'mon. I am Danny McGuire and I'll have the fuckin lot of ye. Those that killed my brother are going to die. I'll kill every goddamn one of them, Sean, then stand beside you. I am Danny McGuire and I have not yet fallen.' In his delirious state he imagined that all Ireland had turned to listen as his words echoed from Black Hill to Knockdore and Carnabanagh to Carncormick and off the peak of Trostan out across the Atlantic Ocean.

When he had finished he lunged towards the crow, screaming at the top of his voice, 'C'mon ya bastard, do your worst.'

But the crow was gone.

Standing in its place was a young woman with dark eyes and raven-coloured hair.

'You all right there, mister?' she asked.

Danny was certain now that he was hallucinating. 'You look good in human form,' he said.

'Thank you,' replied the girl, looking confused. 'Are you all right?'

Danny was staring straight at her, frightened to close his eyes in case she disappeared.

'Do I look all right?' he replied, his voice little more than a whisper.

'I was being polite: you look like shite. I was wondering if you needed a lift somewhere?' she continued.

It was Danny's turn to look confused. The line between what was real and what was the product of his imagination had become too blurred. Eventually he replied, 'You going anywhere near a bus stop?'

The girl suddenly smiled. 'I was thinking more like a hospital or something.'

'I'll mess up your car,' said Danny.

'Well don't be worrying about that,' she replied. 'It isn't exactly a limo.'

Danny swayed unsteadily as he glanced across the road at the old Ford Escort parked on the verge.

'Well? You after a written invitation?' asked the young woman.

'Are you the Morrigan?'

'The what?'

'The Phantom Queen . . . the Terror?'

'Sure, I don't know what you're talking about,' replied the woman.

'What's your name?' asked Danny.

'Is that going to make your mind up whether to accept a lift or not?'

'My ma told me never to accept lifts from strangers.'

The girl smiled again. 'My name's Angela.'

'Aren't you scared?'

'Of you?' Angela shook her head. 'If I sneezed right now I could knock you over. Now why don't you get in the car before I lose one of my legs to frostbite.'

Danny wanted to move towards her, but the darkness was closing in around him.

When he opened his eyes again he was sitting in the passenger seat of Angela's car with her warm coat laid over the top of him. He had no idea how he'd got there.

'Are you from heaven or hell?' mumbled Danny quietly.

'Newry,' replied the girl.

Danny's eyes struggled to focus on her, 'Near enough,' he said. 'If I die will you tell rlaith . . . I forgot to get Easter eggs?'

'If I knew who rlaith was then I would, but it's probably better if you live long enough to tell her yourself. You don't want "I forgot the Easter eggs" to be your epitaph.'

Danny smiled faintly as the gentle motion of the car cruising along the twisting country roads lulled him back to sleep.

Someone was standing over him.

He could feel hot water stinging the cuts in his feet and arms, then a deep, rich, warmth enveloped his body.

Did he ask the angel if she knew rlaith, or had he only thought about asking?

Cool cotton sheets pressed against his face and the musky scent of his mother's hair filled his nostrils.

The pain was gone, but he could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness.

The air around Danny was still. No sound penetrated the delicate membrane surrounding the vision playing itself out before his unfocused gaze. Nothing existed in his present but the past: a memory.

Cailleach Berra's Lough stretched out frozen before him. It was covered in a sheet of burnished ice that creaked and groaned under the weight of the young boy lying in the middle, his face shrouded and obscured by the white clouds of breath billowing from between his chattering teeth.

Danny couldn't see the boy's face clearly, but he knew he was staring at his younger self.

'He's passed out,' said a voice in the darkness.

Danny's mind was filling in the blanks, presenting him with a perspective he couldn't possibly have seen for himself.

Sean was trying to lift Danny off the ice, but the area surrounding the two boys started to crack and give way. The more Sean struggled, the more they were in danger of crashing through to the freezing waters below. Lep MacFarlane shouted words of encouragement from the far shore, but did little else to help his friends. Eventually heaving with the exertion Sean managed to drag Danny to safety. He made it to the embankment and collapsed in a heap on the crisp gorse.

Danny opened his eyes.

His brother Sean was standing at the foot of the bed. 'You'll be all right, our lad, don't you worry now.'

Danny scowled. 'I never thanked you for saving my life.'

Sean raised his finger to his lip. 'Shh!'

Danny tried to focus. He didn't know where he was. He tried sitting upright, but found the effort too much. Sharp, debilitating pains stabbed and hacked at the inside of his skull and made him moan out loud.

The room was dark but for a few chinks of daylight at the edge of the curtains. Slowly the objects surrounding him became more familiar. He was in his flat . . . but had no idea how he'd got there.

Danny freed his right hand from underneath the covers and held it up in front of his face. How had it come to be bandaged? He turned his head slowly, wondering if rlaith had been in the room. He tried to call her name, but the best he could manage was a hoarse whisper.

There was a noise outside the bedroom door: a loud creak that sparked a surge of adrenalin as he instantly recalled the events of the previous night. Danny pressed his head deeper into the pillow and realised his Glock wasn't there. He'd left it at rlaith's.

The handle on the bedroom door turned slowly anticlockwise and clicked open. A young woman was standing in the doorway.

'You've got me for about another half an hour, then I have to be getting back to work, I just thought I'd check you were okay an see if there's anything else you needed.' She walked over and placed a glass of water and some painkillers on the table beside the bed.

Danny stared at her for a few moments, 'rlaith?'

'No. Nor Sean, nor the Morrigan nor your ma neither,' she replied. 'You were mumbling all sorts of nonsense in your sleep. How're you feeling?'

It was only when the girl smiled that Danny remembered. 'Have you ever had a hedgehog shoved down your throat and pulled out your arse?'

'Not that I remember,' replied Angela.

'How did we end up here?'

'You told me the address.'

It was clear from the look on Danny's face that he couldn't remember anything.

'You were pretty adamant you didn't want to go to the hospital,' continued Angela, 'so I brought you here.'

'How did we get in?'

'A key . . . and before you ask: it was under the doormat. You're not in great shape you should really see a doctor. If I was you I'd take up another sport rambling's too dangerous.'

Danny smiled weakly. 'I was sightseeing,' he said, not wanting to have to explain the real reason for the state he was in. 'Visiting old haunts. My brother and I used to play on the beach in Newcastle when we were lads.'

'Naked?' she asked.

'Always,' he replied. 'You're the angel aren't ye?'

'Sort of,' she replied. 'It's Angela.'

Danny gave a slight nod. It was starting to come back to him.

'You're Danny McGuire,' she said quietly as if someone might be listening.

Danny took his time answering.

'Bits of me.'

'I've seen you before.'

Danny turned his head to get a better look at her.

'I used to live in Clanrye Avenue.' Angela paused for a moment. 'My da was Joe Fitzpatrick, he knew your da I think.'

'Aye, that's right,' said Danny. 'I think I remember your da. He was a RA man, is that right? So you're a girl from the Meadah?'

Angela nodded. 'I watched you from my living-room window once, carrying your brother's coffin up the road.'

'I didn't carry it' interrupted Danny, 'I dragged it.'

'Why?'

'It was too heavy to carry.'

'No, I mean, did you not consider using a hearse?'

'There wasn't enough of my brother left to bury. I was trying to make a point.'

'What was in the coffin?'

'Blood . . . from the abattoir. I dragged it past every RUC officer and soldier I could find on my way to the cemetery.'

'The story became a bit of a legend on the estate,' continued Angela in the same quiet tone. 'My da said you were off your head. He heard you refused to let the RA give your brother a proper send-off.'

Danny interrupted her again. 'He heard wrong. My ma . . . she wouldn't have them anywhere near the funeral. I don't mean to be rude, but what the hell does this have to do with anything, Angel?' asked Danny with a little edge creeping into his voice.

There was silence in the room.

Danny's head was throbbing. Even the smallest of movements caused pain in some part of his body. He was aware that he'd been short with her, but right now he didn't care: everything was hurting.

Eventually Angela leant over, picked up a glass of water and held it to Danny's lips. 'If you drink some water, you'll feel a lot better a lot quicker.'

'Is there nothing stronger?' asked Danny.

'PG Tips,' she replied.