The Great And Secret Show by Clive Barker

Author:Clive Barker [Barker, Clive]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-05-28T20:58:35+00:00

VII

The bullet struck Tesla in the side, like a blow from a heavyweight champ. She was thrown backwards, the sight of Tommy-Ray’s grinning face replaced with the stars through the open roof. They got bigger in moments, swelling like bright sores, edging out the clean darkness.

What happened next was beyond her powers of comprehension. She heard a commotion, and a shot, followed by shrieks from the women Raul had told her would be gathering about this time. But she couldn’t find the will to be much interested in what was happening on earth. The ugly spectacle above her claimed all her attention: a sick and brimming sky about to drown her in tainted light.

Is this death? she wondered. If so, it was overrated. There was a story to be had there, she began to think. About a woman who—

The thought went the way of consciousness: out. The second shot she’d heard had been fired at Raul, who’d come at Tesla’s assassin at speed, leaping over the fire. The bullet missed him, but he threw himself aside to avoid another, giving Tommy-Ray time to dart out of the door he’d entered through, into a crowd of women which he parted with a third shot aimed over their veiled heads. They put up a clamor and fled, hauling their children after them. Nuncio in hand, he headed off down the hill to where he’d left the car. A backward glance confirmed that the woman’s companion—whose misbegotten features and weird turn of speed had taken him aback—was not giving chase.

Raul put his hand to Tesla’s cheek. She was feverish, but alive. He took off his shirt and clamped the bundle to her wound, laying her limp hand upon it to keep it in place. Then he went out into the darkness and called the women out of hiding. He knew all of them by name. They in turn knew and trusted him. They came when called.

“Look after Tesla,” he instructed them. Then he went after the Death-Boy and his prize.

Tommy-Ray was within sight of the car, or rather its ghost-form in the moonlight, when his foot slid from beneath him. In his effort to keep hold of gun and vial, both went from his hands. He fell heavily, face down in sharp dirt. Stones stabbed his cheek, chin, arms and hands. As he got to his feet blood began to run.

“My face!” he said, hoping to God he’d not damaged his looks.

There was more bad news to come. He could hear the sound of the Ugly Fuck following down the hill.

“Want to die, do you?” he grunted to his pursuer. “No problem. We can supply. No problem.”

He scrabbled for the gun but it had skidded some distance from him. The vial was there beneath his hand, however. He picked it up. Even as he did so he realized it was no longer passive. It was warm in his bloodied palm. There was motion behind the glass. He grasped it more tightly, to be certain it didn’t slip from him again.

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