Sacrament (14 page)

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Later, with the good butcher Donnelly dead, Geoffrey Sauls, who had accompanied him into the Courthouse
that night, would offer a bowdlerized version of what happened within. This he did to protect both the memory
of the deceased man, who'd been his drinking and darts partner for seventeen years, and Donnelly's widow,
whose grief would have been cruelly exacerbated by the truth. Which was: that they had climbed the steps of
the Courthouse thinking that perhaps they'd be the heroes of the night. There was somebody inside, no doubt of
that, and more than likely it was the runaway. Who else was it going to be, they reasoned. Donnelly had been a
pace or two ahead of Sauls, and had therefore arrived in the Courtroom first. Sauls had heard him mutter
something awestruck and had come to Donnelly's side to find not the missing boy but a woman, standing in the
middle of the chamber. There were two or three fat candles set on the ground close to where she stood, and by
their flattering light he saw that she was partially undressed. Her breasts, which had a gloss of sweat upon them,
were bared, and she'd hoisted up her skirt high enough that her hand could roam between her legs, a smile
spreading across her face as she pleasured herself. Though her body was firm (her breasts rode as high as an
eighteen-year-olds) her features bore the stamp of experience. Not that she was lined or flabby; her skin was
perfect. But there was about her lips and eyes a confidence that belied her flawless cheeks and brow. In short,
Sauls knew the instant he set eyes upon her that this was a woman who knew her mind. He didn't like that one
bit.

Donnelly, on the other hand, did. He'd had a couple of double brandies before setting out, and they'd loosened
his tongue. 'You're a lovely,' he said appreciatively. 'Aren't you a bit cold?'

The woman gave him the reply he'd surely been hoping for. 'You look like you've got plenty of meat on you,'
she said, earning a chuckle from the butcher. 'Why don't you come over here and warm me up a bit?'

'Del-' Sauls warned, catching hold of his friend's arm, 'We're not here for shenanigans. We're here to find the
boy.'

'Poor Will,' the woman said. 'A lost lamb if ever there was one.'

'Do you know where he is?' Geoffrey said.

'Maybe I do and maybe I don't,' the woman replied. Her eyes were fixed on Donnelly, her hands still playing
away.

'Is he here somewhere?' Sauls asked her.

'Maybe he is and maybe he isn't.'

The reply made Sauls more uneasy than ever. Did it mean she had the boy a prisoner here? God help him if she
did. There was a gleam of lunacy in her eyes, and in this whorish display of hers. Though he loved Delbert
dearly, no sane woman would be inviting him to touch her the way she was right now: her dress lifted so high
her privates were on display, her fingers plunged into them to the second knuckle.

'I'd keep your distance if I were you, Delbert,' Sauls advised.

'She just wants a bit o' fun,' Del replied, swaying towards the woman.

'The boy's here somewhere,' Sauls said.

'So go find him,' Donnelly replied dreamily, raising his sausage fingers to fondle the woman's breasts. 'I'll keep
her distracted.'

'I'll take you both on if you like,' the woman suggested.

But Delbert wasn't feeling democratic. 'Go on, Geoffrey,' he said, his tone faintly threatening. 'I can handle her
on my own, thank you very much.'

Geoffrey had only brawled with Delbert once in his life (over a contested darts match, naturally) and he'd come
off much the worse. The butcher was more bulk than brawn, but Geoffrey was a bantamweight, and within half
a minute he'd found himself flat on his back in the gutter. Given that he couldn't hope physically to pry Del
from his object of affection, he had little choice but to do as the man said, and go look for the child. He did so
quickly, so as not to be gone from the Courtroom itself for very long. With his torchbeam lighting the way
ahead he searched the passageways and chambers in a systematic fashion, calling for the boy as though for a
lost dog.

'Will? Where are you? Come on. It's okay. Will?'

In one of the rooms he came upon what he assumed to be the whore's belongings: two or three bags, and some
scattered articles of clothing, along with a variety of paraphernalia that looked vaguely erotic in purpose. (He
didn't have time to study them closely. But many months later, when the trauma of this night had receded, his
mind would guiltily revisit this litter, and obsess on it, imagining the purpose to which she had put these barbed
rods and silken cords.) In a second chamber he found a still more disturbing sight. Overturned furniture, ashes
underfoot, fragments of charred debris. What he didn't find was the boy; all the other rooms, and there were
several, were deserted. The layout of the place was tricky to grasp, especially in his present state of anxiety. He
might well have got lost in the maze of chambers and passages had he not heard Delbert start to shout, or sob
maybe - yes, it was a sob - and followed the din

back through the corridors, through the room with the ashes, and that unholy boudoir, to the Courtroom.

And now, of course, we come to that part he kept from telling in its entirety, preferring to risk a lie than defame
his friend. Delbert was not, as Sauls would later testify, lying inert on the floor, sobbing to be saved. Supine he
certainly was, his trousers and underwear somewhere around his boots, his head and arms thrown back. But
there was no appeal in his cry, except perhaps that the woman straddling him, her hands digging into the
mottled fat of his belly, ride him harder, harder.

'Jesus, Del-' Sauls said, appalled at the sight.

Delbert's little eyes, upside-down in the wet, hot bulk of his head, burned with pleasure.

'Go. Away.' he said.

'No, no ...' the woman panted, beckoning Geoffrey to her and proffering her breast. 'I can use him here.'

Even in the throes of his delirium, however, Donnelly was feeling proprietorial. 'Fuck off, Geoffrey,' he said,
skewing his head around to get a better fix on the competition. 'I saw her first.'

'I think it's time you shut up!' the woman snapped, and for the first time Geoffrey saw that there was something
wrapped around Del's neck. From what he could see it looked to be no more than a thin piece of rope with a few
beads threaded along its length, except that it moved, in serpentine fashion, its tail twitching between Del's pink
tits, its body sliding upon itself as it tightened its grip. Del suddenly made a choking sound, and his fingers went
up to his throat, scrabbling at the cord. His red face suddenly got redder still.

'Now, come here,' the woman instructed Geoffrey, sweetly enough. He shook his head. If he'd had any urge to
touch the creature, it had been scared out of him. 'I'm not going to tell you again,' she said to Sauls. Then,
glancing down at Delbert, she murmured: 'Do you want it tighter?' A pitiful gurgling sound was all that escaped
him, but the snake-rope seemed to take that as a yes, and duly tightened.

'Stop!' Sauls said, 'You're killing him!' She stared at him, her face as blank as it was beautiful, so he said it
again, in case the bitch in her heat hadn't understood what she was doing. But she understood. He saw that now;
saw the look of pleasure cross her face as poor Delbert bucked and thrashed beneath her. He had to stop her,
and quickly, or Del would be dead.

'What do you want?' he said, approaching her.

'Kiss me,' she said, her eyes become slits in a face that was somehow simpler than it had been moments ago, as
though it were being unmade before his eyes by some invisible sculptor. He would have preferred to clamp his
mouth to his own mother-in-law's maw than kiss the moist hole in the whore's face, but Del's life was ebbing
away by the gasp. A few moments more, and it would be gone. Steeling his courage, he pressed his lips against the unbecoming flesh
of her mouth, only to have her take hold of his hair - what little he had - and haul back his head. 'Not there!' she
said, the words coming on a breath so balmy and sweetly scented he momentarily forgot his fear. 'Here! Here!'

She pressed his face down towards her bosom, but as he stooped to service her Delbert's flailing arms caught
hold of Geoffrey's right boot, and pulled. He stumbled backwards, vaguely aware that this was more farce than
tragedy, his outstretched hand raking the woman's pristine skin as he tried to prevent himself falling. It was no
use. Down he went, arse first, the breath knocked out of him.

As he raised his head he saw the woman climbing off Delbert, clutching her breast. 'Look what you did,' she
said to him, showing him the marks where his fingernails had caught her. He protested that it had been an
accident. 'Look!' she said again, advancing on him. 'You marked me!'

Behind her, Delbert was gurgling like a monstrous baby, his arms no longer strong enough to flail or his legs to
kick. There was another of the woman's pet ropes slithering around his groin, Geoffrey saw, most of its length
constricting the base of his prick, so that it stood up - even now, even as the last of his life went out of him
-stout and stiff.

'He's dying,' Sauls said to the woman.

She glanced back at the body on the ground. 'So he is,' she remarked. Then, looking back at Geoffrey: 'But he
got what he wanted, didn't he? So now, the question is: what do you want?'

He wasn't going to lie. He wasn't going to tell her he wanted her body, however finely made she was. He'd only
end the same way as Del. So he told the truth.

'I want to live,' he said. 'I want to go home to my wife and my kids and pretend this never happened.'

'You can never do that,' she replied.

'I could!' he insisted. 'I swear I could!'

'You wouldn't come after me, for killing your friend?'

'You won't kill him,' Geoffrey said, thinking perhaps he was making some headway with the woman. She'd had
her fun, hadn't she? She'd successfully terrorised them both; reduced him to a quivering mess and Delbert to a
human dildo. What more did she need? 'If you let us go, we won't say a word. I promise. Not one word.'

'I think it's too late for that,' the woman replied. She was standing between Geoffrey's legs now. He felt horribly
vulnerable.

'Let me at least help Delbert,' he begged. 'He's not done any harm to you. He's a good family man and-'

'The world's filled with family men,' she said contemptuously.

'For pity's sake, he's not done you any harm.'

'Oh, Jesus...' she said, exasperated. 'Help him, then, if you must.'

He watched her warily as he scrambled to his feet, anticipating a blow or a kick. But none came. Instead she
allowed him to go to Delbert, whose face was by now purplish, his lips flecked with bloody spittle, his eyes
rolled up beneath his fluttering lids. There was still breath in him, but precious little; his chest heaved with the
effort of drawing air through his constricted windpipe. Fearing the battle was already lost he dug his fingers
between cord and flesh and pulled. Del drew a faint, wheezing breath, but it was his last.

'Finally...' the woman said.

Geoffrey thought she was referring to Del's passing, but looking down at the man's groin realized his error. In
extremis, Del was spurting like a whale.

'Jesus Christ,' Geoffrey said, nauseated.

The woman wandered over to admire the spectacle. 'You could try the kiss of life,' she said. 'You might still
bring him back.'

Geoffrey looked down at Del's face: at his foamy lips and bulging sockets. Maybe there was a remote chance of
starting his heart again and maybe a better friend than he would have attempted it - but nothing on God's earth
could have convinced him at that moment to put his lips to the lips of Delbert Donnelly.

'No?' said the woman.

'No,' said Geoffrey.

'So you let him die. You couldn't bear to kiss him, and now he's dead.' She turned her back on Sauls and
wandered away. This was not a pardon, Geoffrey knew; just a stay of execution.

'Oh Mary, mother of God,' Geoffrey said softly. 'Help me in my hour of need ...'

'You don't need a Virgin right now,' the woman said, 'you need somebody with a little more experience.
Somebody who knows what's best for you.'

Geoffrey didn't turn to look at her. She'd exercised some mesmeric hold over Del, he was certain of it, and if he
met her eyes she'd get into his head the same way. Somehow he had to find a way out of here without looking at
her. And then there were those damn ropes to be considered. The one that had garrotted Del had already
slithered away. He didn't want to look at Del's groin to see what had become of the other, but he had to assume
it was loose somewhere. He would have one chance at escape, he knew. If he was not quick enough, or
somehow lost his bearings and missed the exit, she would have him. However offhand she was being right now,
she could not afford to let him escape; not after what he'd witnessed.

'Do you know the story of this place?' she asked him. Happy to have her distracted by conversation, he told her
no, he didn't. 'It was built by a man who felt injustice very deeply.'

'Oh?'

'We knew him, Mr Steep and myself, many, many years ago. In fact, he and I were intimate, for a short time.'

'Lucky man,' Geoffrey replied, hoping to flatter. Her talk was all delusory, of course. Though he knew little
about the Courthouse, he was certain it had been standing a century at least. There was no way this woman
could have known its creator.

'I don't remember him well,' she fantasized. 'Except for his nose. He had the largest nose I have seen.
Monolithic. And he swore it was this that made him so sympathetic to the condition of animals- While she
babbled, Geoffrey covertly cast his eyes left and right, the better to orient himself. Though he couldn't actually
see the door that led to freedom, he guessed it to be just out of sight near his left shoulder. Meanwhile, the
woman chattered on: -they're so much more sensitive to odours than we are. But Mr Bartholomeus, because of
his nose, claimed he could smell more like an animal than a man. Ambrosial, myrrhic, mephitic. He'd divided
the smells up, so he had a name for every one. Putrid, musky, balsamic. I forget the others. In fact, I forget him,
except for his nose. It's funny what you remember about people, isn't it?' She paused. Then: 'What's your name?'