Sacrament. Clive Barker

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       XII

      Sherwood had intended to retreat to the vestibule, away from the Courtroom and the smell of burning there, which turned his stomach. But in the guttering darkness he took the wrong route, and instead of being delivered to the front of the building, he found himself lost in a labyrinth. He tried to double back, but he was too frightened to think clearly. All he could do was stumble on, tears stinging his eyes, as it got darker and darker.

      Then, a glimmer of light. It wasn’t starlight – it was too warm – but he made for it anyway, and found himself delivered into a small chamber in which somebody had been working. There was a chair and a small desk, and on the desk a hurricane lamp, which shed its light on a selection of items. Wiping away his tears, Sherwood went to look. There were bottles of ink, maybe a dozen of them, and some pens and brushes, and lying in the midst of this equipment a book, about the size of one of his school-books but much thicker. The binding was stained and the spine cracked, as though it had been carried around for years. Sherwood reached to flip it open, but before he could do so, a soft voice said:

      ‘What’s your name?’

      He looked up and there, emerging from the doorway on the other side of the chamber, was the woman from the Courtroom. Sherwood felt a little shudder of pleasure pass through him at the sight of her. Her blouse was unbuttoned, and the skin exposed fairly shone.

      ‘My name’s Rosa,’ she said.

      ‘I’m Sherwood.’

      ‘You’re a big boy. How old are you?’

      ‘Almost eleven.’

      ‘You want to come here, so I can see you better?’

      Sherwood wasn’t sure. There was definitely something exciting about the way she was looking at him, smiling at him, and maybe if he got a little closer he’d see that unbuttoned place better, which was certainly a temptation. He knew all the dirty words from school, of course, and he’d glimpsed a few well-thumbed pictures that had been passed around. But his schoolmates kept him out of the really smutty conversations, because he was a little daft. What would they say, he thought, if he could tell them he’d set eyes on a pair of naked bosoms, in the flesh?

      ‘My, but you stare,’ Rosa said. Sherwood flushed. ‘Oh it’s quite all right,’ she said. ‘Boys should see as much as they want to see. As long as they know how to appreciate it.’ So saying, she reached up and unbuttoned herself a little further. Sherwood tried to swallow, but he couldn’t. He could see the swell of her breasts very easily now. If he stepped a little closer he’d see her nipples, and by the look of welcome on her face she would not censure him for doing so.

      He stepped towards her. ‘I wonder what you could get up to,’ she said, ‘if I let you loose?’ He didn’t entirely understand what she was talking about, but he had a pretty good idea. ‘Would you lick my titties for me?’ she said.

      His head was throbbing now, and there was a pressure in his pants so intense he was afraid he was going to wet himself. And as if her words weren’t exciting enough, she was opening her blouse a little further, and there were her nipples, large and pink, and she was rubbing them a little, smiling at him all the time.

      ‘Let’s see that tongue of yours,’ she said.

      He stuck out his tongue.

      ‘You’re going to have to work hard,’ she said. ‘It’s a little tongue and I’ve got big titties. Haven’t I?’

      He nodded. He was three steps from her, and he could smell her body. It was a strong smell, like nothing he’d quite breathed before, but she could have smelt like manure and it couldn’t have kept him from her now. He reached out and laid his fingers upon her breasts. She sighed. Then he put his face to her flesh and began to lick.

      ‘Will…’

      ‘He’s fine,’ said the man in the dusty black coat. ‘He’s just overcome with excitement. Why don’t you just leave him be and run off home?’

      ‘I won’t go without Will,’ Frannie said, sounding a good deal more confident than she felt.

      ‘He doesn’t need your help,’ the man replied, his tone scoured of threat. ‘He’s perfectly happy here.’ He looked down at Will. ‘He’s simply a little overwhelmed.’

      Keeping her eye on the man, Frannie went down on her haunches beside Will and, reaching for him, shook him violently. He made a moan, and she chanced a quick look down at him. ‘Get up,’ she said. He looked very befuddled. ‘Up,’ she said.

      The man in black had meanwhile settled back in his seat, and was shaking the contents of his hand out onto the table. Bright, burning fragments fluttered down. Will was already turning back in the man’s direction, though he was not yet standing upright.

      ‘Come back here,’ the man said to Will.

      ‘Don’t…’ Frannie said. The flames on the table were dying down, the room giving way to darkness. She was afraid as she was only afraid in dreams. ‘Sherwood!’ she yelled.

       ‘Sherwood!’

      ‘Don’t listen,’ the woman said, pressing Sherwood to her breast.

       ‘Sherwood!’

      He couldn’t ignore his sister’s summons; not when it had such a measure of panic in it. He pulled away from Rosa’s hot skin, the sweat running down his face.

      That’s Frannie,’ he said, pulling himself free of the woman. She was wearing, he saw, a strange expression – her panting mouth open, her eyes quivering. It unnerved him.

      ‘I have to go—’ he started to say, but she was plucking at her dress, as if to show him more.

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