by Lita Stone
Isaac said, “Ira is my oath bound servant.”
Waverly grimaced. “I see. Yes, well, I’m not one to judge. This is a friendly community and we welcome all kinds and accept all lifestyles.”
Isaac waited.
She shuffled her feet and fidgeted with her bare arm. “I hate to trouble you any more than I already have, but have you seen my little girl? Her name’s Madeline.”
A low growl vibrated in his throat. “No.”
“Well, if you see her will you please tell her to hurry home? She’s got black hair, blue eyes—”
Isaac slammed the door.
With a crooked finger, he motioned Ira closer. When she neared, he slipped his finger under her chin, lifting her head. He looked into her pale face. “You have done well.”
Ira smiled. It was the same sincere gesture she had always given after receiving praise. His attention returned to the child on the cart. “Take it to Sacred Oaks and release it so that I may hunt it.”
“As you command, Master Isaac.”
Chapter Eleven
The Rising Bull was a square warehouse of a building nestled right off the highway. A wooden corral surrounded the side and a large gateway led to the parking lot. Mounted above the gateway was a big red longhorn skull with heavy duty chains wrapped around the horns. One eye socket was a bright yellow bulb and the other remained hollow. Sick’em, the Rising Bull’s mascot, glowed against the darkened sky, enchanting all who met his gaze. And Carmen was bewitched every time she saw him.
The place was slap full, so Carmen parked in the back. She patted Amy on the knee and said, “Time to cut loose.” Without waiting for a response, she stepped from the car and shimmied her short black dress down her thighs. Cowgirl hat straightened, she cupped her breasts, giving the girls a quick lift. And for the final primp, she ran her fingers through her black hair and fluffed.
As Amy rounded the front of the car, Carmen entwined her arm with Amy’s. She just needed to get a few drinks in the girl and maybe Amy’s bad day would be a distant memory. Arm-in-arm, they headed toward the bar’s entrance.
“Get ready to put yourself two sheets to the wind and drink your worries away,” Carmen said.
With a small smile, Amy nodded.
Carmen stopped and twirled Amy to face her. She stomped her heel on the gravel lot.
Amy shrugged. “What?”
“You better not let that damn rat ruin the whole night.”
“I’ve been thinking…”
Carmen pointed a red fingernail at the building where a caricature of Sick’em was painted on the side. A silver horseshoe hung from its nostrils and ammo belts wrapped around its horns. “This is a bar,” she said in a mother-to-child tone. “No thinking allowed.”
“But maybe that week I had all those terrible nightmares, maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the dead rat I had found back then.”
“Brilliant revelation. Now let’s go.” Carmen’s heels clicked as she strutted toward the bar’s front door.
Amy caught up to her. “Maybe the rat from today won’t haunt my dreams. Could be last time I was fighting off a cold or something?”
“Exactly.” Carmen tugged Amy’s arm once more. “Cold meds can give you some trippy dreams.”
Carmen spotted Derrick standing at the entrance. She let go of Amy’s arm.
But damn, he looked good. He wore a black muscle shirt with tight black jeans that showed his lean but muscular legs, and those rugged steel toe work boots.
Derrick was heavy into conversation, his hands animate. Last time she’d seen him, a week and two days ago, he’d gone home with Miss Suzy Slutbags from Whorelane. Long legs. Blonde hair. Big breasts. How fucking original.
“You and Derrick on the fritz again?” Amy asked.
“No,” Carmen lied and stopped to light a cigar.
Where had he been this time? Rock climbing? Skydiving? Running with the fucking bulls? She watched Derrick until he ducked inside the club then continued walking.
“Who was Derrick talking to?” Amy asked.
“Cinder. He’s been a regular at the Bull for a few months now.”
Amy hesitated before asking, “Have you—”
“No.” Carmen shot Amy a stern glance. “I think he likes the poles.”
Cinder wore a blue rhinestone suit and yellow suede shoes. In one well-manicured hand he held a large cigar and in the other, a moon pie that he’d already taken a bite from. Cinder had to be the second most exotic dresser who frequented The Bull.
“How fares this splendid eve for Lady Carmen and her consort?”
Carmen took a drag of her cigarette. And she’d give him the number one slot for being the most eccentric talker. “Just dandy.”
“May I offer a guess?”
The guy always got her costume right but she never took it further. He seemed harmless enough, but she had zero attraction for him and she sensed he had even less for her.
Her game of ‘guess the costume and answer the trivia = get laid’ was a bit juvenile but entirely entertaining. And in this podunk, backasswards town, a little excitement could curb a strong desire to tie oneself to a train track.
She nodded.
“A sexy cartoon madam with poodle-like hair and nose...with a bit of a western spice.”
She shook her head. “How do you do that?”
Cinder winked. “I have traveled stars beyond dreams; your eyes make me quiver still.”
Carmen nodded indifferently. “Cinder, sweetheart, you need more Daniels and less Cummings.”
“Your Daniels I have known, but your Cummings is much a bore.” He moved his face close to Carmen. “But she walks in beauty like the night; of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright.”
Carmen laughed and placed a light kiss on Cinder’s cheek. “Byron. Now that’s more my style.”
Cinder took another bite of the moon pie and looked into the sky. “Tis a night of a thousand stars and destinies aligned that we find ourselves one day afar, but it will never forsake whom we are.” He leaned to look around Carmen where Amy stood. From his minty cigar, Cinder swirled a cloud of icy white smoke. “I must know the name of your lady friend.”
“I’m Amy.” She gave a wave. “What will never forsake who we are?”
“Our sign from the stars that we are eternally aligned.” Cinder’s face scrunched. “Such unorthodox vibes pour forth this moment in time. Is it too forward to ask of your sorrows and pains?”
Amy’s eyes grew wide, gawking at Cinder as if he were some sort of celebrity.
Carmen snatched her by the wrist. “Her day’s been awesome. Catch you later.” She dragged Amy through the door as Cinder gave his verbose farewell.
Just inside, surrounded by country music, drunken chatter, cigarette smoke and dim lighting, she pulled Amy to the side. Carmen fished through her own purse. “I have something for you.” She found the purple vibrator, still in the package. “Meet Bastet.”
Amy scowled. “Put that away. What would Shane think?”
“It was his idea.”
A short brunette with pigtails and shorty shorts leaned over Amy’s shoulder. “I have that exact one, ‘cept mine’s pink. You’ll love it.” She disappeared into the crowd.
Amy snatched the vibrator and shoved it in her purse. Her arms crossed over her chest, she glared at Carmen. “You gave it a name?”
Carmen mimicked Amy’s angry expression and body posture, but with a touch of exaggeration. “I name all my playthings.”
“I can’t believe Shane would ask you to buy me a...toy. What was he thinking?”
“He wasn’t thinking. He’s got a penis and he’s breathing. But the brute is in love with you on a diehard level, so take the gift and be grateful.” When Amy only glared at her, she added, “Probably worried about leaving you alone so much.”
Watching Amy’s face redden, Carmen struggled with an uncontrollable urge to laugh her fuckin’ head off. Again, she dug i
nto her giant purse and grabbed her cosmetic bag. She forced it into Amy’s hand. “Put some war paint on that pretty face and loosen up, girl.”
“Why?”
The urge to laughter faded, replaced by frustration. “Because the mopey-pouty, woe-is-me is tiresome and I refuse to babysit. Besides, I need to dance, get drunk and maybe even score myself a man, but your negative nancy vibes are going to be a super buzzkill.” She lifted her chin, gesturing to the ladies room. “Bury the damn rat already. Forego the mournful widow, Plain Jane look and put some damn makeup on.”
When Amy’s posture drooped and her frown deepened, Carmen wanted a do-over. If only she could take back all the shit she had just yammered.
Amy took the cosmetic bag. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a downer.”
Relieved and shocked Amy took her run-down so well, Carmen shrugged. “If you keep thinking bad things are going to happen then they will.”
Chapter Twelve
Isaac knelt at the marble foundation which served as an altar to Galmoria. Violet glow misted off the purified water, rising and dissipating. Onyx statues carved to depict three images of Galmoria, The Winged Priestess, guarded the fountain. One pose was of her squatting, her delicate hands flat on the ground between her bent legs; the second depicted her about to leap, black fangs over stone seductive lips and curved talons on her long fingertips. The third statue captured his demigod-mother in mid-flight with a giant scorpion draped along her back between raven wings; the scorpion’s curled tail appeared as if it belonged to both insect and demoness.
“Mother, I demand to know why I have been sent here.” Pacing, he waited as dew from the humid air covered his skin.
From the third statue flashed emerald green eyes, entrancing Isaac.
“Answer now! Why have I been sent to this wretched world?” Isaac peered into the glowing orbs. Galmoria’s seductive lips and deadly fangs were a breath away from his own. “Damn you, Mother!”
Two green streaks shot from the eyes and struck his face like iron balls. Isaac collapsed backwards onto the stone patio.
“How dare you speak to me with such a vile tongue.” Galmoria’s voice pierced the quiet courtyard.
Isaac gathered himself up and shook dirt from his bare chest and slacks. “I offer no apologies. Now, tell me why I am here.”
“To fetch a Paladin child who will serve as a great general for you and your queen’s armies.” His Mother’s voice was distant, but clear.
“My queen?” Isaac knelt before the statue. “Am I to be a king?”
“You will be King of the Tribes, and Lord of the Beasts.”
“If that is your wish.”
“I have knowledge of an ultimate power; a power of such rarity that it cannot be neglected. But it shall not remain hidden from our enemies. We must move quickly. You are to seek out The Beloved in Buckeye for she is the vessel of the child.”
“Am I to kill this ‘Beloved’?”
“Do not harm her. She is the future of our race.”
”As you wish.”
Chapter Fourteen
A bang on the first-floor door startled Shane awake. Fisting his eyes open, he shoved the thin sheet aside and staggered down the metal stairs. Akron Oil had upgraded their shitty rundown FEMA trailers from Katrina to brand new stackable modular buildings. Too bad, only four months later they looked and smelled like a boys’ high school locker room.
Shane kicked a pair of whitey-tighties from the bottom stair before opening the door.
“Mornin’ shithead,” the shift supervisor, Lawdry said. Wearing a navy dress jacket and matching slacks, he looked ready for Easter Sunday service, if only Easter could fall on a Wednesday.
Shane looked at the blue LCD clock on the nearby counter: 5:15 AM. “What’s the deal?”
“Pack your things, Baker. You’re outta here.”
“What about the piss test?”
Lawdry opened his mouth but hesitated. He glanced around the room and lifted his gaze toward the second floor. “Anybody else awake?”
Shane shook his head.
Steve Lawry said, “Rig’s shutting down. There’s been a situation. Kevin Deeks was found dead on the platform this morning. Asphyxiated on his own vomit.”
Shane leaned against the wall, hands on his thighs and blew out a breath. “Shit.”
“Deep shit is more like it,” Lawdry said. “OSHA is capping us off ‘til an official investigation can be completed. An autopsy is scheduled to test for blood alcohol levels. We’ll contact you when you should report back—that is if we’re even authorized to reopen operations.”
“I understand.”
“I can tell a straight shooter when I see one,” Lawdry said. “Did you know anything about Kevin drinking on the site, Baker?”
Shane’s face tightened. “No, sir.”
Lawdry nodded. The supervisor glanced at the second floor again. “Let the rest of the guys know for me, will ya?”
“Yeah,” Shane said.
“You and your buddy Birch need bus tickets home?”
“We’ll just drive the Jalopy back to Buckeye this time.”
“Buckeye, huh? I took my nephew there a couple years back to do some hunting. Some coonass at a bait shop tried to sell us silver bullets and a wooden cross. We decided to get our bait and beer at K-mart.” Steve shook his head. “Didn’t see a damn thing the whole time we were out there.”
Fucking Abe.
Lawdry left and Shane went upstairs. When he sat on the edge of Birch’s mattress, the sleeping beauty stirred and frowned.
“We’re going home,” Shane said.
Birch raised up, and rubbed his eyes. “So much for taking a piss test and everything being hunky-fucking-dory, huh?”
“Not my fault this time. But I wish it were.”
#
Trying to ignore the pounding behind her eyes, the grand-mama of all migraines, Amy pushed through the double doors of Roxy’s Bus Stop Depot.
The diner opened at five every morning and Amy was hardly ever late for her shift. But the digital clock by the old grill read 5:34. God, the smell of bacon grease and fried eggs made her want to puke all over the wood floors.
She poured herself a Diet Coke and glanced around for Carmen. Her car was not in the lot but she could’ve hitched a ride with Derrick. Unless she was still behind bars?
Amy sipped her coke while sitting at the counter, a long beige breakfast bar with rounded edges and chipped borders. Roxy eyed her from the grill where the nauseating bacon and egg fumes originated.
“Don’t just sit there like a bump on a log.” Roxy waved a metal spatula. “Need some breakfast to help get the lead out?”
Amy gagged. “No ma’am.” She slipped the vial from the pocket of her apron and sipped from it.
Sheriff Bowden held open the door. Carmen stalked into the diner.
Still dressed in her Betty Boop costume from last night, mascara smudged, hair a mess, she walked past the Sheriff without making eye contact. Her uniform balled in her hands, Carmen strode to the bathroom. Silent all the way.
The sheriff set his black drab hat on the counter and took a seat on a stool.
After tying her apron, Amy poured a mug of coffee for the good sheriff. “You didn’t make Carmen spend the night in jail, did you?”
The sheriff narrowed his eyes then tipped the mug to his cracked lips. All the answer she’d get from him ‘til he finished his coffee.
Female, hear me.
Not again. Amy ignored the arrogant voice. The voice isn’t real. She repeated the mantra silently as she wiped down the stainless steel around the coffee station.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted her mother entering the diner.
Amy groaned. What a day for her to visit. Somehow she had to keep her struggle with her sanity a secret. That woman wouldn’t hesitate to have her committed again, just like she’d tossed her own sister Carol into the asylum. She poured another mug of coffee and set it at the opposite end of the
breakfast bar.
A bitter scent singed her nostrils and her stomach rolled. Bile crept into her throat. She closed her eyes and swallowed while her head pounded, a rhythmic drum behind her eyes.
“Something ain’t right,” she said. “I should’ve stayed home today.”
Amy’s mother took a seat at the counter where Amy had set the coffee. “Remember me? I birthed you. What was it? Twenty-five years ago?”
Amy sighed. “Twenty-three.”
So she hadn’t called her mother in over a month, but the woman was more like a stranger, not to mention a diva and a snob. Amy snatched a menu from under the counter and dropped it next to her mother’s manicured hands.
Amy!
The monster in the mirror at the Bull flashed in her mind.
I abide by your rules yet you refuse my callings.
From behind, a hand gripped her shoulder. “You alright, mami?” Dressed in black shorts and a white T-shirt, Carmen gave her a concerned look.
“I’m not a female!” Amy pushed through the double doors, past the grill and into the storage closet.
Standing at the far end, face pressed against a carton of to-go cups, Amy heard the door open. She looked at Carmen standing in the threshold. “If I tell you something, can you promise to keep it a secret?”
Carmen said, “You even have to ask?”
Amy released a deep sigh. She slumped to the floor with her back against the metal rack stacked with paper goods. “I keep hearing a voice in my head and that’s not the worst of it. I think I’m going crazy.”
Carmen sat on a crate of condiments across from Amy. “When aren’t you?”
Amy smiled at the sardonic grin on Carmen’s face.
So what if everybody thought she was crazy. Maybe she was, but what should have felt like a scarlet letter, felt more like a badge of honor.
Despite not caring what anybody thought of her, she didn’t want to be locked up again. Never again.
“What about Aunt Carol?” Amy asked.
“You are not her and I don’t believe a word of that ‘it runs-in-the-family’ nonsense.”
“It’s not just that. I’m nauseous and dizzy.” Amy hung her head between her knees. “I met a real life alien. Right here in Buckeye.” She looked at Carmen. “You think I’m crazy?”
