Servant of the Bones

She gave in to all this with childlike abandon, her body far more frail than I'd expected. Or was it simply that mine was becoming ever more solid?

"I'm here," I said, as if I'd been called to attention by my god, or by my master.

She had an ivory beauty in her illness. But it was bad, this illness. I could smell the sickness-not a repulsive smell but the smell of the body dying. Only her massive black-and-silver hair seemed immune; even the glistening whites of her eyes were dimming.

"He's poisoning me," she said, as if she'd read my mind, and her eyes looked up searchingly. "He controls what I eat, what I drink!" she said. "I'm dying, of course. He has that on his side, but he wants me dead now. I don't want to be with him and his minions when I die, his Minders."

"You won't be. I'll see to it. I'll stay with you for as long as you want." I realized suddenly that this was the first time in this incarnation that I had touched a woman, and her softness was enticing me.

Indeed, I could feel changes in my body like those a normal man might experience with a frail full-breasted creature pressed against him. I felt myself grow hard for her.

Could such a thing happen, I thought, not wondering about her virtue, but my limitations. All I got for my pains was a gang of confused memories, that I had indeed had women in this spirit form, and that my masters had railed against it because of its weakening effect. Again the memories were faceless and frameless.

I didn't loosen my grip on her, but my senses were flooded with the sight of her white thighs, her throat, and her br**sts.

She was impatient with the drugs that still hobbled her.

"Why did my daughter say your name?" she asked. "She saw you? You saw her die?"

"Her spirit went straight into the light," I said. "Don't grieve for her. And she did speak to me before she died, but I don't know why. Avenging her death, that's clearly only part of what I am here to do."

This baffled her but another point concerned her as much. "She wasn't wearing any diamond necklace, was she?"

"No," I said. "What is this talk of diamonds? There was no necklace. Those three men killed her painlessly, if it is possible. There was no robbery. She suffered such loss of blood that her mind drifted. I think she died without ever realizing that anyone had done her evil."

She looked hard at me, as though she didn't entirely believe me, and she didn't welcome this intimacy I offered her.

"I killed the three men," I said. "Surely you read about it in the papers. I killed them with the ice pick they used to kill her. There were no diamonds. I saw her go into the store. I saw her before I knew just how quickly they would act."

"Who are you? Why would you have been there? What were you doing with Gregory?"

"I'm a spirit," I said. "A very strong spirit with a will and some form of conscience. This is not human, this body," I explained. "It's a collection of elements, drawn together by power. Don't get frightened, whatever I say. I'm with you and not against you. I came out of a long sleep as the three murderers made their way towards Esther. I did not catch on quickly enough to how they meant to do the deed."

She didn't react in fear and she didn't scoff. "How did my daughter know you?" she asked.

"I don't know. There are numerous mysteries surrounding my presence here. I've come, seemingly on my own, but obviously with a purpose."

"Then you don't belong to Gregory in any way?"

"Of course not, no. You saw me defy him. Why do you ask?"

"And this body here," she said with a slight smile, "you're telling me this body is not real?"

Indeed, she stared fixedly at me as if she could learn the truth with her eyes. I could feel the heat building between us.

Then she did a most intimate thing that astonished me. She came forward, surprising me, and she kissed me on the mouth. She kissed me as I had kissed Gregory only seconds before she had come into his room. Her lips were damp and hot and small.

I think my mouth was lax and gave back nothing, but then I cupped my hand behind her head, loving the large rustling nest of her hair, and I kissed her, pressing her mouth as hard and sweet as I could.

I drew back.

I felt a deep pang of desire for her. The body seemed in perfect condition. Once again, a few echoes of admonition and advice came to me . . . "lest you vanish in her arms," or some other antique rot. But I was now through with trying to remember, as I've explained.

What was her pleasure?

As for her, she had the passion of a young woman, whether she was dying or not, or perhaps more truly the passion of a woman in full flower. Her lips were still firm and open, as if she were kissing me still or ready to do it. She was shrewd and not afraid of men or of passion. She was like a queen who has had many lovers. Exactly that way.

"Why did you do that?" I asked her. "Why the kiss?" The kiss had strengthened me, enlivened parts of me for specific human function.

I call that strength.

"You're human," she said, dismissively, her voice deep and a little hard.

"You flatter me but I am a spirit. I want to avenge Esther, but there's something more involved."

"How did you get to an upper floor with Gregory?" she asked.

"You know his power, his influence. The Lord's Right Hand, the Founder of the Temple of the Mind of God," she said contemptuously. "The Savior of the World, the anointed one. The liar, the cheat, the owner of the largest fleet of pleasure cruise ships in the Caribbean and the Mediterranean, the Messiah of merchandising and gourmet food. You're really telling me you're not one of his men?" "Ships," I said. "Why would a church have ships?" "They're pleasure boats but they also carry cargo. I don't understand what he's doing, and I'll die before I understand. But what were you doing with him?" She went on. "His ships dock at every major port in the world. Don't you know all about it? It's not that I don't believe you, that you're not a Minder. I saw you defy him, yes, and you got me out of there.

"But everyone in that building is a Minder. Everyone in my life. Everybody's one of his church," she went on, her words becoming rushed and full of distress. "The nurses are from his church. The doormen, the messengers, the entire staff of the building. Those people chanting, did you see them, they're part of his church. His church covers the world. His planes drop leaflets over jungles and nameless islands." She sighed, then continued:

"What I'm saying is, if you're not one of his, and haven't lured me off to some other place to be locked up, how did you ever get to the upper floor?"