jherbert.sepulchre-第21节

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　the　shame　he　was　supposed　to。　He　recounted　his　'crimes'　against　the　Holy　Father　in　Heaven　and　smiled　in　the　unlit　confessional；　feeling　no　resentment　even　in　having　to　reveal　secrets　to　a　man　whom　he　had　no　liking　for；　and　worse；　no　respect　for　。　。　。　I've　lied；　Father；　I've　stolen　things　。　。　。　the　bow　of　the　priest's　large　head　in　the　diamond　holes　of　the　struts；　a　nodded　acceptance　of　the　confessor's　iniquity　。　。　。　I've　abused　my　own　body；　Father…that's　how　the　boys　were　taught　to　say　it；　'abused'　instead　of　'pleasured'　。　。　。　and　I've　called　God　dirty　names　。　。　。　movement　stopping　in　the　adjoining　cubicle；　the　priest's　breath　momentarily　held。　。　。　Liam's　smile　widening　。　。　。　I've　asked　God　why's　he's　a　wicked　bastard；　Father　。　。　。　the　bulky　head　turning　towards　him；　the　priest's　eyes；　unseen　but　felt；　burning　through　the　latticework。　He　took　him　from　mam　an'　me　。　。　。　the　boy's　smile　hard；　his　eyes　staring　ahead；　seeing　nothing　。　。　。　Liam；　gunmen　took　your　father's　life；　not　God　。　。　。　why　He　。　。　。　why　He　made　me　Mam　。　。　。　why　He　made　her。　。　。　the　boy's　eyes　moistened；　the　smile　still　there　。　。　。　do　things　。　。　。　mad　things　。　。　。　why　she's　to　go　away　。　。　。　Liam…the　priest　again；　gentle　now　。　。　。　why　。　。　。　the　boy's　first　sob；　the　hunching　of　his　shoulders；　hands　reaching　up；　fingers　sinking　through　the　black　diamonds　of　the　grille；　curling　round；　clutching　and　pulling　as　if　to　wrench　away　a　barrier　against　truth　。　。　。　the　shadow　beyond　moving；　light　thrown　to　show　emptiness　there　。　。　。　the　door　beside　Liam　opening；　Father　O'Connell　reaching　in；　touching　the　boy's　shoulder　。　。　。　Liam　pushing　him　away；　shrinking　down　into　the　booth's　corner；　forcing　his　head　hard　against　his　raised　knees；　tears　uncontrolled；　thin　body　jerking　with　the　outflow　。　。　。　the　priest；　a　burly　and　dark　silhouette；　bending　forward；　arms　outstretched　。　。　。
　　。　。　。　A　tapping　on　the　door。
　　Halloran's　eyes　opened　immediately；　consciousness　returning　almost　as　fast。　The　dream　remained　as　an　image；　one　that　could　be　put　aside　for　the　moment。　He　was　moving　towards　the　door；　gun　tucked　into　holster；　before　the　tapping　resumed。　He　opened　up；　one　foot　rigid　against　the　base　of　the　door　so　that　it　couldn't　be　forced　wider。
　　Outside　stood　Cora。
　　　
　　　
　　　18　UNHOLY　MUNION
　　
　　There　were　candles　all　around　him；　tall　thick…stemmed　candles；　candles　that　were　black。　They　hardly　lit　the　chamber；　though　his　wretchedly　thin　naked　body　glistened　highlights　under　their　subdued　glow；　the　two　dark…skinned　men　had　used　oil　on　him；　their　excitement　enhanced　by　the　slippery　smoothness　of　his　skin。
　　And　there　were　eyes　watching　him　constantly。　Large；　unblinking　eyes；　grouped　together　at　the　far　end　of　the　room。
　　The　youth　moaned；　twisted　his　head；　movement　weakened　by　the　frequent　injection　of　fluid　into　his　veins。　They　kept　him　passive。　But　not　all　the　time。　Sometimes　the　Arabs　liked　to　hear　him　screaming。
　　No　sound　could　escape　this　room；　they　had　said；　grinning　at　him；　holding　each　other's　hand。　This　was　a　secret　place；　one　of　worship；　where　the　walls　were　strengthened　by　the　very　earth　itself。　Scream；　they　had　urged　him。　Shriek；　for　our　delight；　they　had　said　as　long　needles　pierced　his　flesh。　Let　us　see　you　weep；　they　coaxed　as　sharp　things　were　imbedded　in　his　genitalia。
　　They　had　taken　the　hair　from　his　（body；　even　gulled　free　the　eyelashes；　plucked　his　nostrils　clear；　so　that　he　remained　only　gleaming　colourless　flesh；　a　languid；　loose…muscled　object　one　moment；　a　fitful　shivering　creature　the　next。　And　sometimes；　perhaps　because　of　the　drugs；　the　pain　was　exquisite。
　　They　had　removed　his　tongue　when　they　grew　tired　of　his　words；　suspending　his　body　so　that　he　would　not　suffocate　on　his　own　blood；　sealing　the　wound　with　liquid　that　blazed　more　than　the　cutting。　Then　they　had　mocked　his　gibbering　as　they　used　his　body　with　their　own；　thrusting　into　him　with　a　force　that　tore　and　bloodied　him　inside。
　　The　youth　attempted　to　move　his　limbs；　but　they　were　restrained；　not　by　drugs　but　by　manacles。　He　lay　on　the　hard　flat　surface；　arms　and　legs　stretched　outwards；　body　punctured　by　wounds；　many　needles　still　protruding；　metal　dull　in　the　poor　light；　thin　rivulets　of　blood；　now　dried　and　crusted；　on　his　skin。　Every　part　of　him　seared　pain　and；　had　his　senses　been　more　lucid；　the　agony　might　have　checked　his　heart。　While　one　channel　of　his　mind　struggled　for　reason；　others　closed　down；　refuting　the　hurt　to　his　body；　the　degradation　it　had　suffered；　instinctively　knowing　that　full　acknowledgement　could　only　mean　insanity。　The　remaining　dregs　of　morphia　were　an　ally　to　their　cause。
　　The　low　flames　wavered；　caressed　by　a　breeze。　He　raised　his　head　from　the　cold　slab　he　was　chained　to；　the　motion　sluggish；　taking　all　his　strength；　and　looked　down　along　his　own　body。　The　slender　spikes　in　his　chest　were　huge　to　his　fuddled　brain；　rising　like　crooked　metal　poles　in　a　greasy　snow　field；　and　their　undulation　as　he　breathed　became　mesmerising。　But　light　from　above　was　seeping　into　the　chamber。　He　struggled　to　keep　his　head　raised；　but　it　was　too　heavy；　the　strain　was　too　much。　It　fell　back　onto　the　stone　with　a　sharp　crack。　He　had　seen　the　figures　emerge　from　the　passageway　though；　grouped　together　at　the　top　of　the　stairs　as　if　their　bodies　were　joined。　The　youth　moaned　aloud；　his　dread　even　more　acute。
　　He　tried　to　call　out　when　he　heard　their　footsteps　on　the　stairs；　wanting　to　plead　with　them；　and　could　only　manage　an　incoherent　wailing　sound　that　became　a　whimper　when　his　head　lolled　to　the　side　and　he　saw　them　approach。
　　The　two　Arabs；　as　ever；　were　grinning　down　at　him　and　between　them　stood…no；　sagged；　for　the　others　were　supporting　him…a　small　man　whose　ravaged　face　was　so　old　and　so　wicked　that　the　youth　tried　to　turn　away。　But　it　was　impossible…the　strength　wasn't　there；　the　side　of　his　face　could　only　rest　against　the　stone　and　his　eyes　could　only　stare。
　　The　dark…haired　man；　whose　features　were　wizened　and　cruel；　skin　flaking　away　as　though　diseased；　gazed　on　the　youth；　and　his　tongue　flicked　across　dry；　cracked　lips。　He　extended　a　tremulous　hand；　index　finger　pointing；　and　trailed　a　yellow　fingernail　along　the　white　stomach；　bringing　the　nail　up　towards　the　sternum。　As　it　travelled；　the　finger　sank　into　the　flesh；　with　no　apparent　effort；　leaving　a　shallow　rent　behind。
　　Once　more　a　syringe　found　a　vein　in　the　youth's　spindly　arm　and　fluid　was　pushed　into　him。　The　glow　rapidly　spread　through　him　and　he　almost　smiled　his　gratitude。　Now　he　could　turn　his　face　towards　the　black；　limitless　ceiling　above。
　　He　was　conscious　of；　but　did　not　feel；　the　pulling　apart　of　his　；kin；　and　the　vapour　that　rose　from　his　stomach　into　the　cool　air　was　no　more　to　him　than　a　light　cloud　rising　from　a　warm　dampness。
　　The　dark…haired　man　shuffled　away；　aided　by　one　of　the　Arabs；　the　other　disappearing　to　a　different　part　of　the　room。
　　The　youth　lay　there　on　his　blood…soaked　slab；　his　body　opened；　and　dreamily　wondered　why　they　had　gone　away。　He　didn't　mind；　not　at　all。　It　was　pleasant　lying　there；　watching　steam　gently　curl　upwards　from　a　source　near　him；　but　just　out　of　sight。　He　wanted　to　drift　away；　to　sleep；　but　for　some　reason　his　mind　wouldn't　allow　him。　It　was　nagging；　trying　to　tell　him　something；　something　desperately　urgent；　but　he　didn't　want　to　know；　the　peace　after　so　much　pain　was　too　intoxicating。　Now　the　needles　were　tike　birthday　candles；　their　heads　gleaming　as　tiny　flames。　Was　it　his　birthday？　He　couldn't　remember。　Any　celebration　was　nice　though。
　　He　heard　nearby　sounds　and　turned　and　craned　his　neck　as　far　as　it　would　go。　Nerve…ends　twinged　only　a　little。　The　darkhaired　man　was　inside　an　alcove；　opening　something；　a　cabinet　of　some　kind。　No；　not　a　cabinet。　One　of　those　。　。　。　what　were　they　called？　The　sort　of　thing　they　had　in　churches；　a　box…thing　priests　were　always　poking　into。　Funny；　this　place　was　like　a　church　with　all　the　candles；　even　though　they　were　black。　The　stone　he　lay　on　was　like　an　altar。
　　The　youth　giggled；　although　the　noise　he　made　was　more　like　a　gurgle。
　　The　three　men　converged　on　the　pale；　prone　body；　the　dark…haired　man　carrying　a　dish　of　black　metal；　a　veil；　black　again；　draped　over　its　edges。　Blood　was　spilling　over　from　the　long　scission　in　the　youth's　body；　spreading　in　pools　on　the　stone's　surface；　beginning　to　trickle　down　the　sides。　The　youth　had　scant　life　left　in　him。
　　The　veil　was　drawn　away；　revealing　the　dish　to　be　more　like　a　wide…brimmed　chalice；　for　it　had　a　base　which　was　clutched　in　one　trembling　hand。　With　his　other　hand；　the　dark…haired　man　removed　the　contents　and　placed　it　inside　the　youth's　stomach；　gently　pressing　down；　soaking　it　in　blood；　smothering　it　in　slithery　organs。
　　Now　the　youth　did　scream；　a　piercing　screech　that　echoed　around　the　stone　walls　of　the　chamber；　for　no　drugs　could　deaden　the　pain　nor　the　horror。
　　He　was　alive；　but　barely；　when　the　Arab　on　the　outer　side　of　the　stone　raised　the　tool　he　had　collected　and　began　cutting　into　the　youth's　outstretched　limbs。
　　And　still　those　myriad　eyes　stared；　never　closing；　never　wavering。
　　　
　　　
　　　19　CORA'S　NEEDS
　　
　　'I　need　pany；'　she　said　simply。　'I　get　。　。　。　frightened　when　I