Elysium. Part Two Read Online Free Page A

Guliven recognised his voice. It wasn’t Irish, but had the drawl of a Lundian.
    ‘Kenan?’
    There was a moment’s hesitation before the man replied, ‘Guliven?’ He almost groaned. ‘Jesus Christ, man, why’d it have to be you who took Kelly’s place?’
    The second man moved swiftly, or Guliven was too slow to react; a fist landed hard and squarely on the ridge of his nose. Blood gushed over his face and tears blinded him and he staggered. He thought for a moment of Sean though it seemed as though he had already been incapacitated by Kenan, and Tom had disappeared from the scene altogether.
    ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Guliven cried, covering his nose, but heavy hands had grasped his collar and were dragging him along roughly.
    He heard an engine and was bundled into the back of a rusting car. The smell of mildew hit him as he was forced into the seat. He heard Sean protest as he was tossed into the boot, and then Kenan was beside him as Gorran, his brother, slumped into the driver’s seat and pulled away on to the high street.
    ‘What do you want?’ Guliven said angrily, spitting blood over Kenan. ‘Last time we spoke it was as friends, man!’
    Kenan looked away from him. They rarely saw each other, though whenever Guliven had stopped on Lundy they always spared time to drink with one another.
    ‘We didn’t know it’d be you.’
    ‘Were you expecting Kelly? He’s dead, you know?’
    ‘I know...’ The words were quiet, almost guilty. They checked Guliven.
    ‘What do you mean you know. How?’
    Kenan didn’t answer, but the journey had only been a short one. They stopped outside an old garage, and Gorran pulled Guliven from the car, thrusting him inside. Kenan remained outside, hauling Sean from the boot of the car and beating him until his shouting stopped. Guliven couldn’t tell if he had ceased of his own accord or whether he had been knocked unconscious. Either way, he was quiet... And safe for a time.
    The garage was crammed with obscure shadows cast by engine parts and hanging chains. A single strip light hummed, hurting Guliven’s eyes and casting a sickly yellow glare about the room.
    Gorran shoved him once more until he was in the centre of the garage, and it was then that he saw the giant form of Red Sawbone stepping from the shadows. He swallowed.
    Red was more ancient than he could remember anyone ever looking, his face little more than a yellowed skull atop a neck of exposed tendons, bone and sinew. A thick beard clung to him, more cream in colour than grey, and he walked with a stiff leg which betrayed some former injury that had never fully healed.
    Well into his seventies, he was the mere memory of his former self, the broad and strong giant that Guliven remembered, and yet his vengeance-black eyes radiated with all the strength of a blacksmith’s hammer.
    He bypassed all pleasantries, saying, ‘You know me?’
    ‘I do. Kenan and me... We drink sometimes when I visit Lundy.’
    Red ignored this. ‘And you know of the things that happen in Mortehoe?’
    ‘As well as any other?’
    ‘Then tell me why Richard Kelly was killed.’
    Guliven cleared his throat. ‘He died of a...’
    ‘Bollocks,’ Red growled. ‘Don’t try me, Mr. Waeshenbach. Don’t test me as a fool. He’s cold and dead at the hands of a man. Both you and I know it.’
    ‘If that’s true then I don’t know the reason of it.’
    ‘You know as much as any other, so you say.’ Red drew closer, the cream light turning his eyes the colour of thunderclouds.
    ‘In as much as what goes on in Mortehoe and... And in Woolacombe. In respect to our daily lives, not as for murder.’
    Red took Guliven’s chin in his bony fingers, squeezing it tightly. He looked at him for long moments, reading the silent words in Guliven’s eyes.
    ‘My mother called me a spider...’ Red whispered. ‘Because I liked to gossip as a boy. She meant it as a curse on me, the old bitch, but I was never happier than when she said