Night Work by King Laurie R

Author:King, Laurie R. [King, Laurie R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Crime, thriller
ISBN: 9780553578256
Amazon: 0553578251
Goodreads: 104740
Publisher: Bantam Books
Published: 2000-02-01T08:00:00+00:00

The guards found me

They who patrol the city.

the narrators sang.

They hit me.

They hurt me.

They stripped me.

The guards.

Over and over the last four lines were chanted, faster and faster. The guards sprouted gray and black and khaki veils, and Beloved sank down beneath a swirl of obscuring darkness; one slim blue arm emerged in protest from the huddle, and was overcome. One by one the guards detached themselves and stormed offstage, boots beating on the floorboards, leaving behind them a half-nude figure, heaped up beneath a drift of drab cloth.

After a while, a stir came from the wings, and in washed a flock of five giggling girls wearing the brightest of colors who emerged startlingly, almost painfully from the dark. The abused figure pushed laboriously upright, and made an effort to rearrange hair, pull together clothing, and pluck away the gray and khaki shrouds. The girls came up, laughing and teasing, to inquire where Lover had gone; Beloved asked them, in a hoarse, faltering voice, if they would help look for Lover. Completely oblivious of their friend's suffering, the five colorful figures danced and primped and gossiped about Lover's charms, speculating teasingly about where Lover might have gone, and with whom. Desperately, Beloved reached up to seize an apricot-colored skirt, and cried out:

I beg you, girls of Jerusalem,

If you find my love,

What will you tell him?

Tell him...

(Beloved's voice drifted off, and the five girls paused, paying attention at last and waiting for their companion to continue. Finally, the distraught figure in blue climbed slowly upright, swayed, straightened, and continued.)

Tell him.I am sick with love.

With that phrase, in swept Lover, as heedless of Beloved's distress as the girls had been, and flung strong arms around half-bare shoulders. Beloved cried out, in pain or in pleasure, but then to cover it up, began again to praise Lover, to flirt and act the coy and lighthearted one. All the while the oboe continued to sound its plaintive note, while the audience wondered when Lover would wake up to the realization that something was desperately wrong, would find out what had taken place and rise up in fury to take revenge on the guards.

Night fell again on the embracing couple, with no moment of revelation. The third lighting of lamps came, and a figure lying alone on the stage. This time, however, it was not the slim figure of Beloved who woke alone, but the strong one, Lover, waking alone in the warm and flickering light. But before Lover could do more than sit up and glance about, rubbing a sleepy eye in puzzlement, Beloved erupted back onto the stage, whirling like a dervish, like a small blue tornado, leaping and shouting over the quick beat of the music and holding up some object before her in triumph and adoration. Only when the dance brought Beloved to the very front of the stage, dropping down on both knees to face them, did the audience see clearly the object being held up: a dagger, gleaming silver and stained with blood.

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