by Gilmore, RM
He lowered the bowl and with one swipe scooped up some gunk from the bowl and smeared it across Cyrus’s face in long lines and down his chest. The fire plumed with big spikes of flame, sending heat in every direction. Sweat pooled at my lower back.
My heart sped up to near pounding when they stood Cyrus up on his feet and ripped the cloth from his waist exposing everything he had to offer. Any other situation and I might have blushed at the sight, but standing naked in front of a fire, bound, and covered in some kind of liquid, didn’t seem like a safe situation.
I took a step forward, reaching out like I could do something. Stop something. Halt whatever was going to happen next. Maybe it’s some kind of religious thing, a baptism of some kind, I told myself. Cyrus wasn’t fighting them; maybe he was cool with this.
Naked, covered in shiny grease and dirt, Cyrus stood helpless in the gleaming light of fire. The men sang, danced, and praised something from above. The menacing man stopped his dance long enough to produce a whip from the darkened ground. He reared it back and swirled it in the air. WHACK it went as it snapped in the air. Cyrus cried out and arched his back. WHACK – again. Dark lines appeared on his back and blood soon followed. WHACK – the man with the whip swung hard and fast, and wrapped the leather strap around Cyrus’s neck in one swoop. I cried out and ran toward the men. I screamed for them to stop.
The man released the leather from his neck just before I reached them. He yelled something toward the flame. The other two placed both hands on Cyrus’s back and shoved him into the fire.
I stopped dead in my tracks and slammed my hands over my mouth. A scream came from deep in my belly, but it made no difference. I was nothing. I meant nothing. This was happening whether I was there or not.
Cyrus fell into the fire on hands and knees. The flames rose and engulfed him completely in a matter of seconds. Faint silhouettes of his limbs flailed about within the fire. Screams and the sickening scent of burning hair and flesh filled the night.
I stared, hands clamped over my gasping mouth. What could I do? Leap in the fire and drag him out? I might as well put my pistol in my mouth. His wails echoed through the canyon, causing my gut to roil. My knees shook violently and I fell to the ground. I sat on my knees, hands planted in the dirt, and watched Cyrus burn to death in front of my helpless eyes. Unable to save him, to do anything of influence, I cried and prayed. I prayed this was just a dream.
The flames grew and grew until they nearly reached the tops of the cliffs that surrounded us. Screams from the fire became guttural and more animalistic as the flames grew. Licking the flat edges of the canyon high above us, the fire flittered and danced in the night. When I thought they couldn’t possibly get any higher, a shockingly bright light shot up and out from the center of the fire. In a burst of energy and vibrancy, light and electricity filled the open space. My skin tingled with it. I felt the change in my soul. Deep, molecularly deep, as if the earth itself was changed. I felt it. I knew it with every cell in my body.
From the flame, a low growl emanated. Familiar, but unrecognizable, the growl tickled along my skin. Goose bumps raised along my chest and arms.
I watched the flame, roaring, in more ways than one, and waited for something – anything. I let out a long shaking breath. “Cyrus,” I whispered, tears falling down my cheeks. Nothing. A heavy, stinging breath filled my lungs. I closed my eyes. “Sher Mahin,” Cyrus’s true name slipped from my lips as if I’d said it a million times before.
Instantly, the flames extinguished. For a tic, there was only darkness, the blackness of night without the lights of a city to light the way. The moon, full and round, made its first appearance overhead. Blue-tinged light washed over the canyon and revealed a new scene before me. In the center of the fire pit, a regal black lion stood. I closed my eyes tightly and opened them again, assuming I was seeing things in the newly found darkness.
The lion remained stoic and as black as the sky above us. I’d never seen a black lion before, but I’d also never seen a man be pushed into a fire and a lion appear in his place. The men danced, sang and raised their hands to the heavens. The lion, mane thick and shining in the moonlight, turned to look in my direction. His striking green eyes met mine. I stared for an eternity into the eyes of a black lion created by flame and magic. The lion lifted his chin high and let out a roar that echoed through the canyon. The air around me shook and shuttered with the force of his exuberance. Meeting my eyes again, I realized he could see me. I was finally acknowledged and it was by the damn lion.
The dancing men suddenly fell quiet and caught my attention. I looked in their direction in time to catch the last man fall dead to the dirt, blood spurting from a wound at his neck. A small, slender man stood behind them.
“Many thanks to you, gentlemen.” He spoke English, but his accent was thick and I couldn’t place it. “Come.” He snapped his fingers in the direction of the lion.
The beast gave me one last glance before obeying the command of the slender dark-haired murderous man. The man reached out and patted the large cat on his massive head. The lion nuzzled against his waist, nearly standing as tall as the small man, even on all fours. The lion stopped long enough to lick up a few laps of blood from the throats of the dead men.
I sat in utter shock, knees digging into the dirt. The two, lion and man, walked away from the scene of death and magic, leaving me alone in the dark with the dead men. Leaping to my feet, I ran to the now smoldering fire pit. I searched in the night for signs of a body. Bones, flesh, anything to prove Cyrus was dead. I found nothing.
“Wait!” I cried out to the silhouettes of the two walking away from me in the dark. In a desperate attempt, I screamed, “Cyrus!”
Neither turned. Neither acknowledged I was present. I watched them grow smaller in the distance until they were only darkened shapes against an equally dark backdrop. Confused, I ran after them.
“Sher Mahin!” I called out.
The air shook and shifted. I stopped and looked to the ground at my feet to see dust and rocks shaking and twitching. The lion belted out an earth-shattering roar and filled the air with energy I could nearly reach out and touch. I looked to them again; the faint shape of two men disappeared into the darkness. No lion. Just two men walking in the moonlight.
The air shifted again, and with a loud explosion, the fire ignited. The pressure of the blast knocked me to my knees, falling hands first into the bloody remains of the menacing man. He opened his eyes and grabbed my arm.
I opened my eyes with a start. Cyrus’s lovely face was inches from mine. Last remnants of Mike’s abuse fading, his perfect face again gracing my gaze. A smile spread across his face as his eyes met mine. I opened my mouth to speak, but he shook his head, a few tiny little motions, and I stopped. His body was leaning across mine through the open door of the car. His hand gently released the seatbelt from its buckle and brought it across my body slowly.
I watched him move with new eyes, as if I was finally seeing him for everything he was, or wasn’t. Nothing had changed. He was still the same man he was before I’d closed my eyes, but something in my subconscious knew there was something more. Something so much bigger than I could ever guess, out there, lurking, waiting for its time. Or maybe it was already here. Maybe it had always been here, hiding in plain sight right under our noses.
Still in shock, I let Cyrus lead me from my seat in the car to the sidewalk. We stood again, together, in front of Lupe’s botanica. This time wiser and ready, and carrying with us my ticket to freedom. Hopefully.
“Cyrus…” I started, but he shushed me with a finger to my lips.
Any other man, any other moment, I would have bitten that damn finger right off, but this was different. A new respect filled my heart for him. He had plenty of questions to answer, but not now. Conversations of dreams and nightmares, and things dredged up from my brain could wait for another moment. We had things to take care of.
I shook my body trying to shake off the fear and sadness t
hat lingered. It took a minute, a few glances around at the celebration of death still raging on, and I was back to the present. No canyon or lion, or little murderer guy. Just me. Just me and my cursed soul.
Grunts came from behind me.
Me…and my meal ticket.
Chapter Eight
In any other part of any other town, dragging a bound and gagged Mexican witch man through the streets would be frowned upon, but in East LA, it wasn’t even noticed.
The Day of the Dead celebration was still raging even hours after it had begun. The party had spanned the time of a trip to Fres-hell-no, a visit from a CHP, a fight with some devil-worship-type folks, the drive back, and a lovely dream of a lion and death. Some party.
The celebration we left was nothing compared to what filled the streets. Dusk was quickly approaching and the streets were beginning to be lit with candles. Lining the streets, carried by men and women dressed as skeletons and things, wax dripped and flames flickered.
“Dylan,” Cyrus called from the cheap glass door. He held Zeph by his long, lovely locks. Smart boy.
Zeph fought and tried to knock Cyrus over with his body that easily outweighed Cyrus by a hundred pounds.
“Be still,” he said with the patience of a father.
I followed behind. Still not completely awake and feeling more rundown than I had before my so-called nap. Life felt a little surreal, like I wasn’t really in control of my own body. Autopilot I assumed. My heavy legs made their way to the door and attempted to stay close behind. I failed. The two men were deep into the building before I even walked through the door.
Cyrus called out for the old woman, but no one answered. Zeph fought harder, hardly able to move his legs with his knees tied together. He yelled from behind his tape, but it was only muffled sounds.
“Lupe,” Cyrus called out. Nothing.
We waited near the back of the store, past the cash register. No one came. The lights were on. Shit, even the open sign was flipped outward inviting innocent pedestrians in to the house of magic and bullshit. But not a soul seemed to be home.
My senses were beginning to come back to me, and fast. I felt a sudden rush of blood and adrenaline course through me. My head throbbed instantly and I felt like I was going to fall over. I got that feeling you get when your fat ass bends over too long. Head rush. I needed a chair or I was going down.
“Look, you old bat, I don’t have time for this hocus pocus bullshit,” I said loud enough the people on the street could hear me I was sure, and I charged into the back room. My head swam as I stomped along. The room was dark, only a few candles glowed in back corners.
Zeph wriggled and complained beneath his bondage. Cyrus held him tighter, but it seemed like he was straining a bit too much. The big guy would sooner or later bust out, and likely kill us both. Joy.
“Lupe!” Cyrus yelled into the darkness.
My vision strobed and I blinked it away. Exhaustion, hunger, and fear were all catching up to me at once. And what fickle twats they could be.
I continued to tromp along. My soft sneakers weren’t up for the challenge, so my movements were mostly silent. I was ass deep in shadows when I hit a wall, not a real wall with plaster and paint, a wall of energy, if that was such a thing. It tingled my skin; each hair stood on end. My lungs filled with air that took a solid thirty seconds to come back out. I was frozen. I couldn’t move a muscle. I heard Cyrus shuffling up behind me, and from the sound of it, he was dragging a possibly limp Zeph along with him. I couldn’t move to investigate.
It’s as if I’m glued to the spot!
The mystical force that held me in place had no form to block my view, or lack thereof, of the dark room. In the far back corner, the faint lines of smoke billowed up and out. A bell jingled and echoed. In the darkness, the bright red embers of a cigar glowed suddenly. A moment later, the lines of smoke appeared again.
That bitch.
“Lupe, I can see you, you stupid snatch. What is this shit?” I yelled from my spot. My breath ragged for no obvious reason other than fear and frustration.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t refer to her as snatch until after she helps you? Eh?” Cyrus grunted out from behind me.
With an exaggerated grunt, he shuffled past me and into the nothingness ahead.
“Wait…” I started to call after him but my breath was stolen again.
Cyrus moved forward without hesitation. He supported the big dude against his chest like he was just an annoyingly awkward sack of potatoes and not a two-hundred and some odd pound man. Who, by the way, was rousing from his sweet slumber, slung halfway over the shoulders of Cyrus.
I could see the back of his head raise slightly and attempt to see in this new environment.
Yeah, good luck, buddy.
From the darkness, a quick flash of white streaked in the distance. I blinked my eyes hard and tried to focus, but it was useless. Whatever magical mumbo jumbo that was floating around in the air held me still in my place. There was nothing to light the way other than the smoldering tip of a sickeningly sweet smelling cigar. A cigar I’d shove somewhere very uncomfortable if the bitch smoking it didn’t pipe up soon.
Again, a flash of white slipped through the room. Cyrus continued his forward progression regardless of the current lighting situation. The last flashes of white that had penetrated the darkness came along with a silly little shoot out with me huddled in my bedroom.
“Cyrus? Dude, some funky shit is going down. I don’t like it.” Stuck in unseen mystical goo wasn’t the only thing giving me the heebie jeebies. The flashes of white reminded me of my headless visitors. It’s all I saw before those cunts dragged their dead asses through my door.
I had no gun, and regardless of my attempts, I wasn’t going to be kicking any ass any time soon. Fucked was an understatement in this crowd. Royally screwed? Up shit creek? Nope, that didn’t cover it either.
Another flash of white, closer this time and followed by a glint of something metal. Tiny flickers of light popped up near the glowing cigar tip. I tried to force my eyes to see clearly, but with a few lonely candle flames as the only real light source, it was still pointless.
Cyrus and his oversized package – wait – oh fuck it – anyway, the guy he was toting along was standing on his own two feet and trying like hell to use them. His muffles turned to screams when Cyrus suddenly ripped the tape from his face.
“What is this shit?” he hissed in the same Mexican accent the other grandson had.
“You have disgraced me,” Lupe finally spoke. The red cherry of her cigar bounced with her words.
“Abuela?” Zeph queried, seemingly confused.
The jingling of bracelets and rings came next, but nothing else. Everyone was silent.
I could see the backs of Cyrus and Zeph, but if they moved any further into the room, they’d likely disappear in the shadows. The air in the room grew thick, so thick I could practically taste it on my tongue.
It felt like something was squeezing me with huge arms right around my middle. I tried to step back away from the invisible wall but it wasn’t happening. Whatever held me trapped had a magical GI Joe kung fu grip and the son of a bitch was beginning to squeeze the life out of me.
“Cyrus,” I squeaked out breathlessly.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he snatched Zeph up by his long, black hair and held him there with one hand. Another flash of white and a glint of metal. SWOOSH – a whoosh of magic and movement in the dark. As quickly as it had appeared, the wall was gone and I was covered in wet splashes of warm liquid I couldn’t make out in the dark. Never, ever, was that a good thing.
As soon as my eyes and brain began working together again, I caught sight of the possible cause of my newfound freedom and wetness.
Cyrus held in his hand the severed head of Lupe’s long lost grandson, Zephyrinus. At once, more candles lit around the room by an unseen hand, and the shadow form of Lupe appeared in the farthest corner where I’d seen her cigar bobbing up and
down. In the shadow-drenched space, her face also appeared to be painted like a skull, though hers seemed to have bright colors and not the stark black and white like the other in the room.
Standing in front of Cyrus and Zeph’s head, was a naked man covered in black and white paint, not a headless broad, but not exactly a pleasing sight either. He was painted like the skeletons out front in the parade of death bones white and negative space black. In this lighting, he looked like a walking skeleton. I might have believed that was what I was looking at if I hadn’t detected the slight sheen of glossy paint, oh, and his dangling twig and berries. Most skeletons were free of their nuts and bolts.
I was free from my confines, but I still remained in my spot, too scared to move on – maybe, definitely not wanting to be any closer to that headless body than necessary.
“What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?” I finally spat out in short bursts of speech between blinks and headshakes. Why does everyone lose their fucking head? What is with these people and their compulsion to behead everything?
Cyrus tossed the head toward Lupe. It landed with a splat at her feet.
“It’s done,” he said, obviously in full knowledge of things I’d been left out of.
Them’s fightin’ words.
Another jingle of jewelry and something clanked against the concrete floor, and slid into the toe of my shoe. I didn’t think before I bent and picked it up. I held it close to my face in an attempt to get a closer inspection.
“Your debt is paid in full.” Lupe talked to Cyrus, neither of who seemed to be acknowledging me. I worried I was stuck in a dream, like the black lion situation. Maybe that would have been better; but I didn’t wake up. It was real. Or as real as it was going to get.
“What is this?” I asked, dangling the trinket from my clutched fist.
“Your salvation. Now, go. And don’t come back.” Her voice was strong, but I could hear a tiny quiver. She’d murdered her grandson, for whatever fucked-up reason. That couldn’t be an easy thing to do, no matter how big and powerful you were.
