Rawhead and Bloody Bones by Rhys H. Hughes

Author:Rhys H. Hughes [Hughes, Rhys H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-6323-2
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 2012-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

It was a ridiculous concept, and I shook my head over its disingenuousness for many minutes while our manager, ignorant of our criticism, took a Tarot pack and ran through a series of card-tricks that had been ancient when the Assyrian empire was young. As the minor arcana flapped in his hands, it appeared to be sucking a symbolic yawn.

I was on the verge of heckling, something I’d never done, when my partner voiced a restraining notion. ‘This can’t be it, there’s got to be more. He’s up to something.’

‘Something else, you mean?’ I cried.

It wasn’t too difficult to imagine that Caspar had plenty more aces up his sleeve, metaphors as dog-eared and soiled as the ones he held for real. Sacrificing us to his occult colleagues, embarking on a solo career with a debased version of our act, were possibly just the first stages of his heinousness. ‘I can’t imagine what else he intends,’ I said.

‘Nor I,’ my partner replied, ‘but it’s going to be big. I’ve a feeling in my bones.’

‘I see it,’ I affirmed, ‘dripping with the marrow.’

‘Quite so, Rawhead, and I’ve learnt my lesson. Caspar is untrustworthy. He’ll never pull the silk over my sockets again. Maybe if I was mortal I’d forget. But I’m no imbecile, I wasn’t killed yesterday. To me, his conniving spirit is more than obvious.’

‘Transparent, Bloody Bones?’ I suggested.

‘Took the word right out of my gaping maw, Rawhead.’

As he said this, he shed a black, globular tear, a perfect model of the Opium-Arsenal. He wept for my lost comedy, for my quip wasn’t funny, and I’d delivered it with all my might, screwing my peeled face, poking my rashèred tongue. Time to face facts: my career was over. It was also a blow against my friend; he would have to forge ahead without me, with a new partner to bounce jokes off. But we were an unique symbiosis, the subterranean world of Music-Tomb wouldn’t be the same again. And when it leaked out that I wasn’t a real spectre but just a mortal who thought he was, my past glory would be revised by critics. Where they’d seen irony, they’d remember only sarcasm. Caspar had denied my future and ruined me retroactively. As I pondered the sort of obituary that might be suitable for a ghost, something clamped my shoulder. It was a hand, horribly warm to the touch. I noted that Bloody Bones was similarly afflicted; I tried to wriggle free but was held fast.

Words accompanied the grip: ‘Messieurs, I must ask you to leave! I know this is an inconvenience — you are aesthetes and wish to enjoy a crafted show. But I must look after my performers. I own the theatre and must keep it running smoothly. What sort of impresario would I make if I ignored the wishes of my stars?’ While the voice continued, I blinked at its owner. It was Monsieur le Purr, who’d greeted us with similar polite disdain when we first explored his lobby.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.