The Last Coffee Shop

Chapter 23: To Be Honest, What's a Little More Dangerous Is . . .

Unfortunately for Mads, she saw quite a bit more of Luc in the next few days. As Mads drifted in and out of sleep, pain, and confusion, she often found Luc in her tiny room when she was lucid.

Sometimes he was changing her bandages (mortifying), or practicing sword forms (at least, that's what Mads assumed he was doing). Most of the time, he was just staring into space, as if he could see through the ship walls, through the galaxy, to something else entirely.

He and Graynard were still at odds. Mads had heard the deadened explosion of an argument once. Graynard had yet to make an appearance in the bunkroom. And regardless of what Luc had said about not caring, he was obviously hiding from his companion.

Mads lost track of hours, days, possibly years. It seemed like she was always going to awaken in pain, with Luc somewhere nearby.

Until the morning she woke up, and felt her head was clear for the first time in forever. She hurt across every inch of her body. But she could think properly.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was soft, but she still heard it from across the room.

Mads turned, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the light. She pushed herself up on her left elbow, slowly. Her right arm was still in a sling, though it seemed to move okay. Her head felt too light, and she was vaguely nauseous on top of the pain. "I'll live. I guess."

"That's good, then." Luc was crouched on the floor, fastening some sort of shin guards over his pants. The guard sections looked like they were made of small, browned bones. Luc's shaggy hair was tied back, and he was dressed in loose brown trousers, rope sandals, and a shapeless, long-sleeved shirt that split down to his slim waist. The slit bared an expanse of scarred and marred skin that looked like it had never seen sunlight of any variety. 

Mads' attention snagged on a particularly nasty scar just below Luc's prominent collarbone. It looked as if someone had tried to slit his throat, and missed. Or maybe they had been trying to slice his heart out?

Luc glanced up then, his bright eyes narrowing. "See anything exciting?" He fastened the other shin guard and rose to his feet, still holding her gaze, his expression hard to read.

Mads flushed, looking away, and hating herself for it. He was just too hard to look in the eye sometimes. "Why are you dressed in such weird clothes?"

She heard the rustle of rough fabrics and an unsettling clacking sound, so she dared another look. Luc was settling some sort of chest armor over his shoulders. It stretched all the way down his long torso, and was plated with more of the bones (?).

"Could you tie these?" He strode over and dropped to his knees so that his back was facing her.

Mads looked at the leather cords waiting to join the two back sides of the vest/armor/thing, then at his slim, skeletal fingers holding the strange thing in place. "Are those bones?"

"Yes."

Mads shifted so she could reach out and grasp the frayed cords. The motion hurt so badly that she had to grit her teeth, but she ignored the pain. She tied the shoulders first. And then she tied the three laces in back, while Luc did up the sides.

"That isn't the question you wanted to ask," said Luc, pausing to look over his shoulder. The circles under his eyes were heavy and dark, making his eyes even more shocking. He was wearing dark red-brown eye make-up, which enhanced the effect. It suited him, so Mads decided she didn't like it.

Mads rolled her eyes. "And I suppose you know what I 'want to ask'?"

"They're human bones," he continued, ignoring her sarcasm. "The bones of sacrifices. It's a ritual thing."