The Pulptress Page 13

  This room was a small alcove with a low bed in the center, a dresser with a mirror was tucked into the corner and a single table with a chair sat on the other side. Red, black and grey silks and satins hung everywhere. There were carefully glassed in flames to light the area.

  The woman from before was sitting at the table carefully taking the bones from her hair and setting them down on a plate. Once she had all but one pristine white bone out of her hair, she walked to the dresser and began to carefully brush her hair. Her cloak was off and I had to purse my lips together to keep silent.

  From just below her breasts she was nothing but skeleton. Her ribs gleamed in the fire glow of the torches, and I resisted the urge to count the vertebra holding her up. She wore a short skirt and stockings that hid whether her legs were flesh or bone, though the shape of them hinted that there was skin and muscle under the thin fabric.

  She didn’t react as I quietly slipped past the silk barrier and into the room. She continued brushing her hair, humming to herself, I kept expecting to hear the grinding of bone on bone when she moved but she was silent and surprisingly graceful. Nothing made of purely bone should have been able to move like her.

  “You don’t have to hide like that, I already know you’re in here,” she said, not looking from the mirror as she sat down her hairbrush.

  I paused where I was, half pressed against the wall and half behind a sheet of silk.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you Pulptress.” She finally turned around, her eyes firmly on me.

  “I can’t say the same about you.” I kept my distance from her, staying to the walls.

  “I try to keep to myself, but sometimes people pry you know.” She shrugged her shoulders and I watched in horrified fascination as her spine and ribs shifted with the movement.

  “You can touch them you know,” she cooed, “They don’t hurt.”

  “I’d rather not,” I pressed my back further against the wall as she began walking towards me, “Where’s Amaury?”

  “Amaury?” she drummed her fingers against her rib cage. THUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUM beating down the left side of bones like she was trying to play some sort of piano, “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  I clenched my fists, “The man you took from his apartment, the apartment you then had burned down. Does that ring a bell?”

  She chuckled, “That does. Amaury. Well that is a lovely name; I suppose it suited him well enough. I’m sorry to tell you but he’s dead. Quite dead. Dead and bone.” she lightly tapped the bone still in her hair, “Isn’t he lovely?”

  My fist hit her face before she realized I had moved. She stumbled backwards, crashing into the dresser, the mirror on it rocked wildly.

  “Didn’t take that news well did you?” she smiled. The skin on her cheek was torn but there was no blood, just scraps of bone peeking through the torn flesh.

  She dodged my next hit and grabbed the mirror from the dresser, crashing it down on top on me. I hit the ground, wheezing lightly as shards of glass reflected her all around me.

  “Oh you bleed such a lovely shade of red...” I felt her fingers run down my spine, “And I imagine your bones will taste just as lovely.”

  I rolled out from her touch, grabbing the largest mirror shard I could see. The edges cut into my palm as I gripped at it, “What did you do to him?”

  “I crunched his bones to make my bread.” she smiled, “What does it matter? He’s dead; you really want all the details?”

  I slashed forward, catching the skin of her arm, ripping off another chunk exposing her shoulder bone. She pulled away from me, putting the dresser between us.

  “Well if you are missing him so badly, perhaps I can let you see him just one last time.” She pulled the pristine bone from her hair and popped it in her mouth like a candy.

  The crunching, cracking sound made my stomach churn. She swallowed the first mouthful and I watched as the bits of bones then bounced out of her rib cage and clinked onto the floor. Dust from where they hit began to rise to the air, slowly taking on the shape of a man, a man I knew well.

  Amaury was raised from the dead.

  My mentor looked horrible, his skin was the same thin sallow yellow as those rag men, and I could see the split down his skull that must have been the killing blow when he was alive. His eyes, which had always been the lightest of blues, were nothing but black cloudy nights and his mouth hung open in a mock of surprise. In his hand he held a sword, the sword that he had always treasured and used when he was alive. He’d sworn he’d die with it in his hands; it looked like he had kept that promise.

  Amaury didn’t wait for a command or for me to move before he charged at me. His technique was sloppy but he was still one of the best swordsmen I’d seen. He had taught me almost everything I knew about how to use a sword. I blocked his first strike with my mirror shard, it cracked but held steady in my bleeding hand.

  “Oh he must remember you,” the bone-woman laughed softly. She was moving out of my range, slipping back towards the hallway.

  I grunted as Amaury’s blade sliced across my shoulder. I stabbed with my mirror shard and watched as half of his face’s skin was ripped off and I was left staring into a skull.

  Amaury swung hard at me, and my mirror shattered from the force of the blow, bits of light flew all around me reflecting everything I knew and remembered about Amaury. Amaury. Not this thing.

  “Goodbye,” I whispered before drawing back my fists and slamming them both against the temples on either side of his head. Maybe it was just the mirror shards, but I swore there was a moment of light in his eyes.

  His head came together and my bone knuckles ran straight through the empty corridor of his head and crashed into one another as his body fell to the floor, the bones fading into just a pile of dirt.

  My entire body seemed to be ringing with exertion as I picked up Amaury’s sword from the pile of dust and stalked after the bone queen who was fleeing down the hallway.

  We ran, predator and prey, through the empty chambers. When we reached the large chamber where Richard’s body still laid on the floor she stopped, spinning on her heel and starting to chant. The walls began to rumble and shake.

  I aimed the blade for her heart but rocks began falling from overhead, knocking me off course. I nicked one of her ribs, breaking it clean in half. She screamed in pain, but before I could bring the sword back up, a swarm of shadows wrapped around her and she was gone.

  The shaking grew worse, more chunks of stone starting to fall. I grabbed the broken off piece of rib before I ran for the exit, zigging and zagging through the hallways. Sprays of dust, dirt and stone crashed into me, I couldn’t see where I was running but I knew I had to get out of here fast.

  I finally spotted the black line on the cracking ceiling and put every last ounce of energy I had into running after it through the cracking collapsing darkness of the catacombs.

  Long before I reached the entrance area, the ground had stopped shaking, the walls had become still but I couldn’t stop my legs. I came panting and wheezing through a group of tourists and up the spiral tower staircase to run to the sidewalk where I finally collapsed and lost consciousness.

  When I woke up, my body hurt in places I never knew existed. Breathing hurt, swallowing hurt, even trying to open my eyes hurt. But I knew that meant I was still alive.

  “Well it’s about damn time.” Paulette’s voice snapped, “We were beginning to think you were dead or something.”

  Even smiling hurt but I did it anyways, “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Did you get a piece of that bitch?” Pascal asked.

  I clenched my fist, relieved to find the piece of rib still there, “I got a piece alright, but not a big enough one.”

  “She’s still out there somewhere then,” Paulette frowned, “Making more Chiffonniers somewhere.”

  “Yeah,” I winced as I sat up, “And Amaury’s dead…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry my petite!” Paulet
te started to pat my shoulder but stopped before she touched me, “You look a little too banged up to handle a hug at the moment.”

  “I feel about the same.”

  “Don’t worry; when she turns back up we’ll be ready for her.” Pascal nodded.

  I didn’t reply. Testing each and every muscle of my body, I was pleased to see that everything was still in working order. Paulette and Pascal were both looking at me, worry all over their faces.

  I sighed softly and glanced at the two, “Look, I was promised free wine when we got out of there. Is someone going to deliver on that or not?”

  Pascal laughed and disappeared off to the kitchen, “Coming right up.”

  “You are okay?” Paulette asked, her voice low.

  “I’m getting there. Now go help your brother pick out a decent bottle.” I grinned.

  She smiled, “You are just as Amaury said. He would be proud.” She put a hand over his sword, “You were carrying this when you collapsed…Keep it safe.”

  I nodded and she finally went to the kitchen where the sounds of her and Pascal arguing in French blared.

  I got to my feet and collected Amaury’s sword. The hilt was warm and comforting in my hand as I put it inside a long gym bag and threw it over my shoulder. The door opened silently and I eased outside into the streets of Paris. I hailed a cab for the airport and silently apologized to Paulette and Pascal. The wine would have to wait for another day. I squeezed the broken rib bone and let it press against the fresh cuts on my palms.

  There was still work to do.

  THE END