Uttuku The Books of Darkness by Robert N. Stephenson	Table of Contents
Chapter 38 part 1 of 2

I got back from a walk along the beach, feet covered in sand and leaving tiny flecks on the black carpet. Sarina had gone out. No note, no message, then there never was. I’d clean up the sand later.

Walking into the bedroom I noticed a difference immediately. The black world had changed slightly. The three large photos of Bela Lugosi were gone, his penetrating eyes no longer looking down over the bed. In their place hung a single large colour photograph, the frame gold and silver fleck; modern.

The photograph had been taken at the Writers’ Centre and showed Sarina and me shaking hands the first time we met. How? Who? I sat on the bed, looking at the colours penetrating the room. Sarina’s dark world had shifted in a way I didn’t expect. Where had the picture come from? What did hanging it on the wall mean?

It wasn’t a hard guess, or one that wasn’t expected, it became clear Sarina felt something more for me. Emotionally there came a mess of conflicts all mixed together with events that could readily destroy any relationship by themselves. Did the same feelings affect me? Did I see colour amongst all the black? Guessing about what was represented didn’t help; being wrong had lately become the norm, and the unexpected was expected.

We looked good together in the shot, our smiles genuine our stances relaxed and mutually inviting. The picture displayed a comfortable unity overlooking the hard darkness of the room. Should there be acceptance of this change? Could there be a mutual feeling in the photograph’s representation? Tension still held tight, more so now with the suggestion on the wall.

The front door opened. I didn’t know what to do, stay in the room, meet her in the hall. What?

“Do you like it?” She headed me off, coming straight into the room.

“It’s a surprise,” I said being truthful.

“I like it. It’s nice and we both look good.” She sat on the bed beside me, taking my hand. “I couldn’t think of a better place to hang it.”

“Who took the picture?”

“Bela.”

“He was there?” The tension increased.

“He sent it yesterday. I had to wait for you to go out this morning to hang it.”

“Why?”

“Hang it?”

“Send it?”

“I don’t know why,” she said, releasing my hand and pushing hair back from my shoulders. “Maybe a thank-you for getting the book back.”

I looked at the picture. It had been taken from the office area.

“He knew we’d meet,” I said, a sinking feeling in my gut. “He already knew where the book was.”

Sarina kissed my cheek. Her breath hot against my face, her smell sweet, fruity. The touch of lips soft. The distraction didn’t last long. If Bela had already known, then what was the game we had just played. What was it all about? I turned my head to stare right into her face. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to tell me what this all meant.

“If he knew, then why?”

“We’ll never know,” Sarina said. “Ta’ibahs don’t work in the same way we do, and we don’t think in the same fashion as humans. Who knows why he did what he did.”

“I guess I need something to help me understand.”

“I think Bela might still have some remnant of human feelings,” She said, moving back a little so we could see each other clearly. “I’m guessing, Diana. Ta’ibahs don’t have feelings, real feelings. He could have been playing this game to save us.”

“Is that possible?”

“That’s the only explanation I can offer. I have to say we got lucky. If he did help us out of some remnant of feeling, I doubt it will be there in our next encounter.”

We sat on the bed, holding hands and looking up at the picture. Sarina had said the change had to be made, she had to accept her Bela was truly gone and also accept that she liked something that was happening in her life. She didn’t come out and say her feelings, leaving me to accept them unsaid.

I wanted to. Thought I could, but when the thoughts hit my head, taking the long road from the heart, confusion and doubt crammed them out. After what felt like an hour we both showered and changed, sharing time together under the water. We still had The Dark One to deal with and Bela wasn’t completely out of the picture yet.

Sarina looked exhausted. I knew how she felt. Beth, pouring drinks for us, just stomped and swore. Our meeting generated nothing. My life still hung in the balance and The Dark One still presented a large and real threat. Beth wasn’t happy with going up against him. She had her Goth life and enjoyed the people she’d met. Her only contribution was to suggest giving the horse back. It meant little in the scheme of things. Why die for a symbol?

Marie just looked radiant, happy and relaxed. I’d told them about the book and how Bela had said he would take care of Samantha’s crime. Marie looked truly pleased and hugged me at the news. I liked her, her refreshing manner gave nothing away of her age. She could only suggest that the three of them somehow protect me, shelter me from the threat until a solution could be found. Beth grunted with the idea.

“Waste of time,” she said. “Bloody drink herself to death for all I care.”

“Beth,” Sarina cut in.

“I understand,” I said. “I didn’t plan to get involved in any of this, you know?” Beth’s place looked even more of a tip than usual. I didn’t think you could get so much stuff stacked up on a sink. It almost blocked out the window, and the smell. Sweet woman body odour, sickly and pungent, the smell of rotting food... An overflowing compost bin sat on the bench. To think I confided in this woman, thought she cared, listened to me quietly out of concern. She listened because she couldn’t be bothered to do anything else.

The tone grew darker, and we made no headway with the problem. Marie had to work tonight and Beth had friends to catch up with. Which was good, a long night with her would have been the death of me, Dark One or not.

Beth went down to Goth Club while Sarina and I headed to the Crazy Horse. Marie had invited us this time: free passes and drinks. I liked free drinks. Marie went ahead of us as she couldn’t be seen to be showing favours to patrons. We’d just be audience members she spoke to. Funny how strip clubs work.

As we walked up Hindley street, Sarina held my hand, helping to ease away the panic that gripped me. The attack, now put in the perspective it should be, still held power over me. I would feel better once inside the club, off the street and away from the threats of street gangs.

Marie sat with us for a while; she had some time before her first performance. It was hard to believe she had once been the Queen of France. I watched closely how she held herself. The regal mannerisms remained: the tilt of the head, the way she held her hands when speaking, even the way she walked when coming out on stage. You could tell she had that something special, a step above the basic coarseness of the other girls. True, she was a Uttuke, not human at all. I just liked the overall feel of her presence, and I had to admit, she was very beautiful.

She danced and stripped to the cheers and jeers of a packed house. Sarina and I applauded. Marie had been immediately called away for a lap dance in a shadowed corner of the room. We watched her personal attention, the closeness, the breast rub in the man’s face. We watched as Marie leaned forward and kissed the top of the man’s head. His eyes flickered. In an instant she’d just fed. She would be able to feed several times a night and the men wouldn’t know. I understood why she did this kind of work.

Another dancer took to the stage, she looked solid, big breasted. Her skills were limited, but the men didn’t seem to notice, or be overly bothered. Once naked it didn’t really matter what you did.

Marie took a brief break to say she would finish early. We could go someplace quieter, talk. She took to the stage, moving delicately about the lights, gliding up and down the pole like a gymnast. Her muscle tone, highlighted by the lights gave her the vision of being an elite athlete. I found myself enjoying the spectacle, enjoying the vision of her body. Then everything stopped.

The Dark One dropped from the ceiling, his blackness dulling the lights. I shivered. The temperature dropped, I could see condensation as I breathed.

“You have come a long way,” The Dark One said. “It was a pity I didn’t get you last time.”

“What do you want?” Marie stepped away from the pole. She walked off the stage, naked but defiant. With fists clenched on hips she stood before The Dark One. I guessed after all the abuse she had received before her execution, facing him wasn’t a big issue.

“You have lowered yourself to their level,” he said. His voice became a dull thud against my body.

“I am proud of how I look, and I am proud of what I do,” she said. “Why are you here?”

“For you of course.”

I looked to Sarina who simply grabbed my wrist, holding me firmly at the table. Could he take a Uttuke? Sarina had suggested he couldn’t.

“Idle threats do you little justice,” Marie said sitting on the table top that ran around the edge of the dance floor. “You might as well leave now.”

The Dark One waved his hand, a whisp of blackness moving through the air. A man stepped out of the shadows, he wore jeans and a T shirt, a scruffiness hung about him. Marie turned, her face lined with surprise.

“What is this?”

“You just fed from a Ta’ibah.” The Dark One laughed. Solid, painful, gut wrenching. “Now the darkness within you is greater than the light.” He shifted towards her. One hand outstretched. Marie looked towards us. I could see fear in her eyes, pleading in her face.

“This won’t get you the horse of Alexander,” Sarina said. A weak defense of her friend.

“I know, but it will hurt you. I doubt this pitiful woman will have the courage to fight me anyway.”

Marie stood tall, steadied herself. “Courage! I have shown it for years; do you think I will lose it at the moment when my sufferings are to end?”

Sarina’s grip on my arm tightened. I could feel her own tension growing. This wasn’t happening. She’d said we’d be protected, were safer together.

“You’ve said that before,” he said. “Thought you could find something new by now.”

The Dark One plunged his hand through Marie’s chest, between her breasts. The light faded from her eyes and she collapsed. The Dark One vanished, and so did the young man in jeans. Sarina released me and we rushed to Marie’s side. She felt cold. Dead.

“She’s gone, “ I cried. “You said this couldn’t happen. You said we were safe.” I stroked Marie’s still face.

“Help me,” Sarina said. She slipped her arms under Marie’s. “Take her legs.”

“She’s dead.”

“She will be if you don’t do as I ask. Now move!” We carried her out the back, through the girls’ change rooms to the top of the back stairs. The world still hung in limbo, silence and stillness created a surreal scene. I put Marie’s legs down. Sarina still held her shoulders. I wanted to cover her, it didn’t feel right to be carrying Marie about naked.

“We don’t have much time,” Sarina said. “Once everyone becomes reanimated it will be minutes before security notices her missing.” She hefted Marie over her shoulder. “Go down the front stairs, get a taxi and bring it around the back alley. Now!” she shouted.

I ran through the club, everyone frozen in place like mannikins. I had to push a couple of guys over to get down the narrow staircase. On the street, motion was still in play, the world moved on.

I ran into the street, slapping my hands down on the front of a taxi. The driver threw his hands up, giving me the ‘Crazy woman’ look. I climbed in front with the driver and ordered him into the back alley. Only when I stuck my stiletto in his throat did he take me seriously.

I felt like an age before we were inside the darkened alley. I didn’t know which building we wanted. How far down the alley were they? I made the driver switch on his high beam. Had the world in the Crazy Horse returned to normal? Had they found Sarina and the dead Marie?

Sarina stepped out in front of us with Marie draped over her shoulder and wearing Sarina’s long coat. Good, at least she wasn’t naked. We pulled up and I helped Sarina get her into the back seat. The cabbie protested, but Sarina threw a couple of hundreds at him and he shut up.

“Glenelg Apartments,” she said, climbing in beside Marie. “Fast. Another five hundred on arrival.”

The tires squealed.

I unlocked the door while Sarina held Marie. We carried her inside, Sarina slamming the door closed with her foot. Marie looked pretty dead to me. The blue lips, grey skin. I hadn’t known her long, but grief had set in. I felt numb.

“Leave her to me,” Sarina said, dragging the body down the hallway. “Bring the horse. Hurry.”

I ran across the room, picked up the horse and headed into the hallway. The only place to go was the kitchen. Why? At the end of the hall, where a black wall should have been was a rectangle of white light. Bright against the black of the walls. What was this? A hidden room.

“Hurry, Diana. I need the horse.”

I ran into the light and into a bright room of yellow furniture and colour pictures, a vase of roses, bright, stood on a computer table beside a white computer screen. Marie lay on a bed. Her pale body against a quilt of large sunflowers on blue. Sarina snatched the horse from me. I stared. The room came as a shock, a difference full of confrontation and sensory assault.

Sarina eased the head off the horse, putting its jet black body on the yellow bedside table. She pinched out some of the ash.

“Help me, please.”

I dropped beside the bed, close to Marie’s head.

“Open her eyelids. Quickly, we don’t have much time. I prised open one eye lid, she sprinkled a little of the ash over the dull eye. We repeated the action with the other. Sarina wiped the remaining powder on the inside of Marie’s lips before standing.

“What did you just do?” I asked, ignoring the room.

“Hopefully, saved her.” Sarina eased the head back on the horse then sat on the bed beside her friend. She held her right hand, stroking the fingers as if trying to will the woman back to life.

I sat on the brilliant yellow high backed office chair and watched. What had Sarina just done? What did this room mean? I thought I understood some of what was going on, even managed to help, but this... this came as a shock, a real shock. The yellow computer was an Apple, all modern design and beautiful. Above the desk stood a rack of books, coloured spines, titles I could read, some author’s I knew. A CD rack on the desk held modern rock albums, Silver Chair, Buckley, Sebastian and Leith. Nothing of the Sarina I’d come to know existed in here. Nothing.

The quiet, the deathly quiet clung to us like a second skin. Sarina continued to hold the dead woman’s hand, and like a doll with no one to play with, I sat and stared. A clock on the wall, a yellow sunflower, said we’d been sitting and waiting for over two hours. Whatever was meant to happen wasn’t happening.

“She’s dead,” I whispered. “Let her go.” Sarina didn’t answer, didn’t acknowledge I’d spoken. This was going to be hard. I got out of the chair and knelt beside the bed, looking up at a tearful Sarina. “She’s gone, Sarina.”

Proceed to part 2...

Copyright © 2009 by Robert N. Stephenson

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