The Dark Communion (The Midnight Defenders) Read Online Free

look around.”
    “End of the hall on the left,” he answered.
    I ignored the other doors, knowing Ape had checked them, and entered the last. It was a bone garden. In the center stood a worn, white-washed, wooden dresser, about four-feet high, and on top of that, staring back at me from hollow sockets, were three human skulls, marred and chipped and displayed like trophies, each about the size of fucking cantaloupes. Piled in the corners and at regular intervals along the walls, were eight little piles of femurs and bones that looked like femurs.
    I don’t know what different bones are called. Having once beat a nymph to death with the femur bone of an ostrich, I do know what a femur is. I only know what it was called because Ape saw me leaning against the club-like piece, panting. He said, “Cool femur.” It’s a thigh bone. Bones all look the same to me, they’re like…fucking Chinese people.
    While I didn’t know what the bones were called, I did know they were too small to belong to an adult. And as I stood among them, I could almost hear the distant voices of children chanting in that sing-song voice, “the neck bone’s connected to the head bone.” But these bones weren’t gonna do any walking around.
    I pulled myself together and took a quick look around, careful not to disturb the bones. In my line of work, you didn’t make it very long by upsetting dead things, not so much for fear of ghosts, but typically whatever had killed the thing was still lurking somewhere close, usually thought you were stealing its trophy…or dinner. In this case, someone had gone to a hell of a lot of fucking trouble to decorate the room like Mexican Halloween, probably for some sort of ritual, and it was just bad juju to fuck that formula up.
    In the closet, I found a broken-in teddy bear. Normally, with its dull glass eyes, brown fur and tan belly, it wasn’t anything to look at, but in a place like this, it stuck out like a Picasso painting in a Kindergarten art room.
    Almost immediately when I touched it, I could feel the vibrations thrumming, tearing at every strand of fur, every fluff of stuffing. My head began to throb at the temples and my pulse raced just behind my burning eyes. I stumbled to the side, scattered bone across the floor, and grabbed for a handhold. I steadied myself against the wall and took a deep breath before it overcame me.
    There was a sudden whoosh, and everything around me became hushed and dull and black. Then slowly, softly, I heard a faint humming, but distorted as if underwater. There was something very pleasant about the sound, something warming in the scant, breaking melody.
    I realized I was sitting now, though I didn’t know where, just that it was soft, and when I tried to move, couldn’t.
    A small, pink table lamp clicked on, horses danced around the base. Little glass beads dangled and twinkled from the edges of the lacy purple shade.
    The humming grew louder, became a series of la-la-la’s and tongue flicks, and I could make out the voice of a little girl. Something in her carefree inflection made me smile. Warmth swept through me, filled me with a familiar peace I hadn’t known for a long time. It felt…like home. “Anna,” I wanted to say, but couldn’t speak.
    The girl looked my way, cried, “Muffins!” and squeezed me, lifted me, rubbed my face against hers with determination. I was shifted and jostled before the girl pushed me away, held me out at arms’ length.
    I saw her: big blue eyes, soft curly blonde locks tied out of her face with pink ribbons. She had the sweetest smile and a mischievous twinkle. I’d seen her before, in a picture, but she wasn’t my Anna.
    She flashed her teeth at me and said, “I know what we can do today. A tea party!” She giggled.
    I closed my eyes and felt my head throb again. Felt the wall beneath my weight, realized I was standing. I could taste the blood on my lips.
    I hadn’t expected the reading to come so suddenly. Didn’t