The Pulptress (18 page)

I had almost not heard that
telltale scraping, thudding noise, and the growing odor of rot in
the air.

“
Chiffonniers,” Paulette
whispered as Pascal raised the sword and pushed his sister behind
him.

There was nowhere to duck,
nowhere to hide as those things thundered down the hallway at
us.

Pascal lunged forward,
piercing through two of the rag and bone men and throwing them to
the ground. I stood my ground and let Pascal drop the brunt of the
approaching mass of pale and sickly bodies. Any that he missed
found their skulls crushed with a punch. Their bones felt like
paper, only a soft moment of resistance before everything caved in
and they collapsed.

Their only drive was to go
forward. We’d take down one wave and rush forward only to run into
another mob of them, there seemed to be an endless supply of these
things.

“
Damn!” Pascal was panting
and leaning against the wall. Paulette shoved him aside and took
the sword.

“
Your turn to rest.” she
took up her stance before looking at me, “Try to slip ahead. We can
take down these rag monsters. We will never find Amaury at this
pace.”

I glanced at the pair,
leaning on one another, red from exertion but still wanting to
fight. Paulette was right, but I doubted that the two would be able
to keep standing much longer.

“
Go on, we’ll be fine,”
Pascal smiled, “And when we meet above ground we will have a nice
glass of wine,
oui
?”

“
Of course,” I nodded, “and
if you need to run—”

“
Just because we are French
does not mean we run from a fight,” Pascal snapped, “We are here to
win, not to show them our backsides, now leave!”

I reluctantly left the two
as the next wave crashed into us. Paulette’s sword distracted the
thugs long enough for me to slip through their hoard and disappear
down the hall. The sounds of their fighting seemed to echo after
every step I took until it finally faded out of range as I reached
a fork in the tunnel.

I squinted into each of the
two branches; I couldn’t see a thing. The branch to the right
smelled like rot and mold; the one to the left just smelt stale and
stagnant. I trusted my gut and turned down the left tunnel. If
there was one thing I could almost always count on, it was my gut
instinct.

The tunnel was pitch black
for the first hundred feet or so, until torches appeared on both
sides just a few feet apart. It was the most light I had seen since
entering the catacombs and I had to close my eyes against the
brightness to adjust.

A few more blind feet
forward and I stumbled into a sheet of black silk draped over the
end of the tunnel. I momentarily panicked, pulling away from the
fabric and backing down the hallway. When my heart made its way
back into my chest, I crept back to the silk and peered passed
it.

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!”
Paulette 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