The Darkness of Bones (7 page)

A
DRIAN’S HEAD WAS
throbbing. He had never touched alcohol but was certain that this was what his father meant by a hangover. Rubbing his eyelids, he crumbled the hardened crust cemented to them. It took a while for his eyes to adjust and even when they did, his surroundings were obscure.

“Where am I?” he whispered, touching his head cautiously. He tried to ease himself up, but felt lethargic, as if all the bones in his body had been removed. Fortunately, the warmth was creeping slowly up his body, winning against the cold.

To his embarrassment, he was naked, barely covered by a coarse blanket stinging his skin.
Breathe easy. That’s right. Don’t panic. It’s the hospital. That’s all. The doctor or nurse will be here in a minute. Do not panic.

Somewhere to his right, Adrian could hear sounds. They were creepy, like crying babies, muffled and hurt. The sounds filled him with the shits. Was he in a ward—some sort of children’s hospital?

“Anyone there?” he whispered.

A few seconds later, a woman appeared magically from the
shadows, like a magician. Her long fingers held a cigarette, and its glow, to a degree, exposed her face. The shadows veiled the remainder of her face, but she seemed to be studying him, just like the man had done, in the forest.

“Is … is this the hospital? Are … are you a nurse? Can you tell me where I am, please?”

She ignored him, allowing the cigarette to tumble from her fingers, before crushing it with her foot—a foot bare of sock or shoe.

“How … how long have I been here?” Adrian’s words trailed when he noticed the item her fingers now gripped: a cut-throat razor, wet and terrifying. Blood clung to it with a thickness of jam.

It was now frighteningly plain to him that he
was
in hospital, after all—a hospital for the insane. This woman was one of the patients. She looked insane. Did she intend to kill him?

“Who … who
are
you? Where is the man, the one who found me, the one who called himself a prophet? Do you know him?”

There was a pane of frozen silence. The woman was studying him, like a cat within reach of a bird.

When she eventually spoke, it caused the hairs on Adrian’s neck to prickle.

“A prophet?” Pulling a smile across her mouth, she whispered. “No. But I do know the devil, and he can make your eyes bleed.”

J
ACK’S EXPERIENCE HAD
taught him that the first twelve hours—not twenty-four as in the movies—were the most critical in terms of finding and returning a missing person. And with that fearful knowledge, he pushed his way through the doors of the police station.

A few of the old hands greeted him as he made his way down the corridor towards Benson’s office.

The door was ajar and Jack could hear Benson’s loud voice bellowing.

“I need the report right now, Claude. You were supposed to—” Benson stopped talking for a moment. “Listen, I don’t need your sarcastic remarks at this time of—” Benson hit a button on the phone’s cradle, tapping it a few times before glancing up at Jack. “That cantankerous old bastard, Shaw, hung up on me. I hate him.”

“No, you don’t. You admire his pig-headedness.”

Benson mumbled. “Coffee? There’s some in the pot. Almost fresh.”

“No, thanks; I’m caffeined out. Have you heard anything yet? Did you put out the Child Rescue Alert, as I asked?”

Benson appeared uncomfortable. “Jack, I’m as concerned as you, but you know the procedure and the four key criteria for activating such an extreme measure. The only one we have is that Adrian is under sixteen.”

“Wrong. Number two: a senior police officer—
you
—feels that serious harm or death may occur; number three: the child
has
been kidnapped; and four: the case has sufficient descriptive details of the missing child to justify launching the alert. Besides, as you and I both know, the four criteria are all subjective. So what’s keeping you?”

Benson shook his head. “Wilson would overrule any such order. He thinks Adrian is a runaway.”

“Fuck Wilson and anyone else willing to stand with him.” Jack’s jaws tightened. “Adrian is
not
a runaway, Harry. This is my son—
your
godson—we’re talking about. Don’t give me the official spin. Okay? I’m not in the mood for it.”

“You know as well as I do that teens
leave
for a variety of reasons, including trouble at school, problems at home. At this stage of the game, we can’t consider a more complex and sinister explanation.”

“You can activate the alert when it is feared that the abducted child is in imminent danger of serious harm or death.”

“Abducted?” Benson swivelled on his chair, and picked up a pen from the table. His eyes narrowed, slightly. “That’s a bit extreme. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I need you to put out that alert,” reiterated Jack, ignoring Benson’s question.

Shaking his head, Benson replied, “I know what must be going through your head, at the minute, but—”

“How the hell can you know what I’m going through? I’m telling you Adrian is
not
a runaway. Understand? I need that bulletin released now. Every second you waste talking shite takes him further away.”

“Calm down. Okay? Have you had any arguments with him lately?”

“Will you just do this? Yes or no?” asked Jack.

Weariness crept on to Benson’s face. “I’ll alert all personnel, for now, instructing them to be on the lookout. But until we hear something more, that’s as far as it goes. No Child Rescue Alert. Understand?”

“For now,” replied Jack, the edge in his voice calming slightly.

“Good. Now it’s your turn to give. You still haven’t answered my question. Did you and Adrian have an argument lately? Did you mention whatshername to him? The more we know, the clearer the picture becomes. You know that more than anyone.”

Jack looked beyond Benson’s shoulders. Stationed on the wall was a framed photo: a grinning Benson and Jack, fishing tackle sandwiched between them.

“Sarah. Her name is Sarah, and if you must know, Adrian walked in on us.”

“Walked in …? You mean, in the sack?” asked Benson.

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Have you considered that Adrian probably thinks Sarah is trying to take the place of Linda?”

“Yes. Of course I have. And while you sit here and do your interpretation of a psychiatrist instead of a cop, Adrian is going further down the disappearing tunnel.”

“Look, Jack, I’m already on thin ice with Wilson. Even alerting personnel could see me up for insubordination. Once
the old hunger hits Adrian, he’ll come back. Didn’t he do that shit before, a couple of years ago?”

“Harry …” Jack looked uncertain. “I told Adrian the truth about the crash.”

All blood drained from Benson’s face as he quickly rose to close the door.

“Are you fucking serious?” Benson leaned his massive frame against the door.

“I had no other choice.” Jack released air from his mouth. “I couldn’t live a lie any longer, not with Adrian.”

“I put my job on the line to cover up for you. This is how you repay me? Are you for fucking real or what?” The blood was returning quite rapidly to Benson’s skin. It had a purplish hue to it.

“I know you did, and, under the same circumstances, I would have done the same for you. But it was wrong. I should have had the balls to admit what I did, but I was a coward, and a coward’s suit doesn’t rest well on me.”

“You should have thought about that before you got behind the wheel, Jack, over the limit; before you got me involved to cover your arse. I could lose my pension, all my retirement benefits—not forgetting that bastard Wilson hanging me by the balls, possibly jail.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that. I know all about the consequences of human mistakes. I’ve beaten myself up ever since Linda’s death. She didn’t even want to get in the car, but I told her not to worry, it was less than a quarter of a mile to home.” Jack shook his head. “I’ve got to get Adrian back, Harry. It’s killing me, every second not knowing where he is. I know Adrian. He wouldn’t run off—not like this.”

Benson closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he reopened
them, he looked tired.

“Jack, you no longer
know
Adrian.” Benson moved from the door. “You just told him that you killed his mother. God! C’mon, man! Adrian’s angry right now, and he’s going to make you pay—big time. He’s going to make you sweat.”

“Sweat? I’ve been sweating blood, Harry. There’s nothing left
to
sweat—”

Without warning, the door opened, revealing an
angry-looking
man, large cigar trapped between his teeth. Years of overeating had made the man’s ripened face run amok. There was too much flesh to help counter-balance the bloated mouth. It made his chins huge, watery and weak.

“Just what the hell are you doing in my headquarters, Calvert?” seethed Superintendent William Wilson, the cigar dancing in his mouth.

“Just visiting,” replied Jack, trying to control his disdain and temper.

“You’ve no right to be here. Your glory days are long gone,
Mister
Calvert. My advice to you is to leave, immediately. Unless, of course, you would like to see the inside of a cell—”

Lunging at Wilson, Jack caught him tightly by the throat.

“You piece of shit. The day you’re able to put me in a cell, is the day I stop breathing,” he hissed, desperately trying to squeeze the lit cigar into Wilson’s large mouth. Only the quick interception of Benson prevented it from travelling down Wilson’s large throat.

“Get out now, while you have the chance!” roared Wilson, spitting out lumps of tobacco. “I’m going to be watching you,
Mister
Calvert! Make no mistake about it. One more slip. That’s all. Then you’re mine …”

“
A
DRIAN,” SHE SAID
, rolling his name around in her mouth as if she liked the taste of it. “You’re the beautiful boy at the lake. I saw you, wandering about, lost. You saw me. Didn’t you?”

“I …” His mind flashed back to all those days ago, when he had almost died in the stinking icy water. “I thought you … I thought you were my mother. But she’s dead.”

Touching his face, Judith said, “You poor boy. How long has your mother been dead?”

“Almost a year.” Adrian looked away from her gaze. “My father killed her. He wanted to be with someone else.”

“Killed? How?” Judith’s eyes glistened, slightly.

“He was driving a car. He told me someone else had killed her, a drunk from out of town. He blamed him, covered it all up … just to be with another woman.”

Judith shook her head. “That is terrible. Did he beat you, leaving your skin bruised as damaged fruit? Is that why you ran away?”

“Beat me? No … no, he never touched me.”

“Perhaps he did—perhaps you were not aware of his touches. It can easily happen.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Adrian was becoming confused by the questioning.

“It’s okay. We can share our secrets later.” She combed his hair back with her fingers, making it stand up in black spikes.

“I have no secrets,” insisted Adrian.

“We all have secrets,” Judith, replied, smiling.

“How long have I been here?”

“Two days. You were very sick with a fever. You could have caught pneumonia, all alone in the snow. No one cared. But I do. If you want, I can send you home, right now. Is that what you want?”

Hesitating, Adrian mumbled, “I … I don’t know.”

“Have you ever chased the dragon?” asked Judith, tilting her head slightly.

Adrian frowned. “I don’t think so. What is it? What do you mean?”

Judith smiled while removing the tin foil containing the heroin from a small wooden box, resting atop a chair. A small burner accompanied it.

Placing everything on the floor, she hunched directly beside Adrian.

“It started off in Hong Kong, long before your time.” Judith spread the tin foil open, revealing the brown substance, before creating a tiny flame on the burner. “It is called
chui lung
, which means chasing the dragon. The spiralling smoke looks like a dragon’s tail. Mister Spittle introduced me to it, when I was very young. He introduced me to quite a few things.”

Adrian smiled uncomfortably. It sounded like she was telling
him a dark fairytale.

“Who’s Mister Spittle?”

“See how it slithers away?” she asked, ignoring his question.

Curious, Adrian leaned over and watched her hands. The brown powder was liquefying quite rapidly, slithering like a snake—or dragon—through the crevices of foil.

“Not everyone can chase the dragon,” continued Judith. “You have to learn, have to be taught.” From the same small box, Judith produced a tiny metal tube.

Adrian watched, fascinated, while Judith—tube placed between her teeth—sucked in the fumes ghosting from the tin foil, the smoke pooling around her mouth.

Scanning Judith’s face, Adrian felt tiny knots inside his stomach beginning to multiply. Her face looked strange, in the darkness. It frightened and fascinated him as she leaned towards him, pressing her lips against his own, forcing them open with her tongue, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. It tasted weird; it tasted dark and forbidden.

“Inhale it, journey with it to your body, allow it to burn, make your eyes bleed …”

Within seconds, the smoke had coated Adrian’s system and induced an involuntary paralysis of his limbs for a few
heart-stopping
seconds. He listened as the dragon’s breath reached into his lungs and began to chant a song, silently. He tried to think what the song was, but his memory was becoming cloudy, something about a bullfrog.

“Do you miss your mother?”

His head was spinning, but in a nice way.

“Yes. Very much.”

“I can be your mother,” whispered Judith, her eyes dense with concentration. “I can keep you safe; love you like you’ve
never been loved. Would you like that?”

Words clogged in his throat while the skin on his neck tingled. The blanket slipped from his shoulders, exposing most of his nakedness. He did not try to right it, and this amazed him, the audacity of it all.

“Would you like that?” she repeated, her eyes shining
all-pupil
, black and dangerous, inviting him in.

“Yes,” he croaked, feeling the area between his legs tighten as the blanket slipped further, completely exposing everything he possessed.

Standing, Judith stripped off all her clothes, her shadow towering over him. Within seconds, he could see the dark, hairy “v” between her legs.

Reaching towards the chair, Judith reeled in the needle, while her finger and thumb worked on the liquid-filled syringe.

“This is the queen of all dragons,” she whispered, placing the needle to her left breast, tapping gently for arousal on the thimble-shaped nipple before injecting metal and liquid into it.

Adrian couldn’t remember when he had felt this good. Nothing seemed to matter, as if all his problems and worries had been siphoned from him. He felt marvellous as she moved tighter towards him, opening his legs slightly with her fingers, brushing her mound of breast against his face, her nipple resting on his lip like a pebble.

“Suck,” she soothed, stroking his hair lovingly. “Suck the dragon’s power …”

Hypnotised by her words, Adrian gently sucked on the erect nipple, tasting the vinegary taste on the roof of his mouth.

“Good. Very good,” she encouraged. “Suck harder. It’s waiting for you. It will give you new life. It will bring you places not even an imagination can reach.”

Obediently, his mouth worked harder on the nipple, like a piglet on a sow.

“Good little pig,” she whispered, her breath fanning his hair away.

Adrian felt movement on his penis, like the invisible fingers of a ghost. He heard her voice vibrate through his ribcage and he wanted to die with excitement and joy as the fingers manoeuvred on his firm and slightly sticky penis, curled in its little black nest of hair.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, and he felt her body on top of his, sliding his stiffness into her wetness.

The veins around Judith’s neck began to bulge and throb like some invisible hand was choking her. The more she pushed into him, the farther her eyes rolled back into her head and the tighter the walls of her pussy squeezed.

Adrian had never experienced anything like this. It was violent, it was beautiful, like she was giving birth to his penis, as if she wanted it to be a part of her.

Without warning, Judith steered his fingers along the curve of her buttocks, guiding them into her forbidden darkness. And just when he thought it was all over, she plunged his fingers inside her arse.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she moaned, and she was off again.

Had Adrian looked over to his left, just as the moon’s light climbed through the window, he would have seen the prophet, studying him, his face a contortion of jealousy and hatred as he witnessed Judith orgasm for the first time.