Amber StClaire And The Beast Of Sanur

by Brooke Dark

  ‘So, later dat evening, I woss driving Satri back to his hotel and I receive a phone call from my Bali police chief. He inform me dat a woman’s body is lying in the grounds behind the Sun Sea Hotel. He say her stomach been remove.’ He gesticulates, as if grabbing the innards from his belly. ‘You know, her guts, her organs, all gone. Like da other victims. I thought dis might be a good opportunity to show Satri what we are facing. So we drive to da scene. When we arrive, my officers say dey have cornered da killer. So dey try to contain it. But it iss like wild animal. It broke their line and climb a tree like monkey.’ He takes in a deep breath before he continues. ‘I still do not know what we saw.’ He shakes his head. ‘It look like… I don’t know, a monster. Unnatural. Like a ghost.’ Again he glances at Amber. ‘When I see dis thing, I could not believe it. My officers who saw it, some won’t admit it, but I know dey are frightened now. People here in Bali very superstitious. Dey believe in demon, dark spirit. I try to placate my officers. I ask da Hindu priest from Pura Blanjong temple to find dis creature. I want dem to chase it away, ask it to go away.’ He shrugs. ‘Since den we have two more deaths.

  ‘Dat’s why we call you. Satri heard about your work. He suggest we contact you. At first I argued. How would it look in Jakarta to use outside help? But he iss right. We have too many deaths already. Main revenue of Bali come from tourism. We need to stop dees murders before da press get hold of it. Tourist stop coming here den da local business will suffer. But for me, I fear for my daughters.’ He laughs. Without much humour.

  ‘What did this creature look like?’ Amber asks.

  He recollects. ‘It woss dark. We did not see it well. But I remember, it had very big eyes. Long teeth. Long claw.’

  ‘Has your team found substances at any of the crime scenes. Any organic matter that did not match any of the victims.’

  He frowns at her.

  ‘If I can get a tissue sample of the killer, I might be able to use it to track it down.’

  Brata shakes his head. ‘I am sorry, but there hass been nothing like dat in any of da reports.’

  Royal Palms Resort. The property sits on the beach front. Secluded hotel rooms are situated around lush tropical gardens. Fronds of royal palms sway in the gentle sea breezes. Masses of croton and Java white wilkesiana and pink flowered mussaenda line the coral walls of the property. Islands of haleconia, and hispida with their masses of dangling scarlet catkins, back onto large ponds where purple lotus lilies are in flower. Hindu shrines are nestled in amongst garden beds. Oblivious to the recent deaths, guests are being pampered in the bamboo massage hut. Or play tennis on the numerous courts. Or laze around the large pool. Waiters in sarongs carry plates of Nasi Goreng or laksa or chicken satay with peanut sauce, or burgers and fries. Others carry cocktails, or bottles of Heineken or Bintang. There’s a palpable holiday feeling here. Of people relaxing, enjoying time away from work and home. Not a care in the world.

  Part of the extensive gardens have been cordoned off from guests. Several signs state that the area is closed for renovations. They express regret at the inconvenience. The hotel manager leads Brata and Amber to a temporary gate through which they can access the spot where the body of a nineteen year old Russian woman was found.

  Amber stops. ‘Brata,’ she says, ‘it’s better if I do this alone.’

  He eyes her quizzically. ‘You do not need me to show you where da body woss situated?’

  ‘I do not. I will find it. Is that okay?’

  The hotel manager watches the exchange, confused, standing there holding the gate open, waiting for them to follow him.

  ‘Very well,’ Brata says. Then in Indonesian he relays the message to the hotel manager.

  The manager nods and smiles. He offers Amber entrance into the cordoned garden area.

  ‘Terima kasih,’ she says humbly.

  ‘I wait here,’ Brata tells her.

  She nods. The gate shuts behind her.

  She hears the distant sounds of traffic. Tooting horns. The growl of lorry engines. Motorbikes. She hears children squealing and laughing and splashing about the hotel pool. She hears the rustle of wind through the palms. The muggy afternoon sun beats down.

  Amber approaches a frangipani tree. She puts her palm against it. If Brata was with her he would notice that her hand seems to merge with the tree, her fingers taking on the texture of knobbly grey bark. Chameleon like.

  Once again she can summon no spirit. Not the girl’s. Nor any creature that will tell her about the killer. As if all the dark things here cower before it.

  Still, she senses a darkness here. The comings and goings of a dark entity.

  She shuts her eyes, concentrating her mind, still hoping to summon something… any presence. When she opens her eyes it is as though the sun has turned blue. All the world about her like midnight under a full moon. She looks around, using this peculiar spectrum of light. Into a spiritual realm. She can see signatures of wandering ghosts or other dark things that prowl the shadows away from the living. She sees the wake of dead bugs and birds and lizards. She dampens these so they are not so prominent. Now she spots a shimmering darkness at the edge of the lawn, near the property boundary. Where the crab-claw haleconias and torch gingers are thick and lush, their flowers full and red and pink and orange.

  She approaches slowly. She knows not to do so in haste. There’s a risk of being ambushed from behind. By dark entities. It has happened before. She remains vigilant. Listening. Watching. Still, it seems that any spirits that were here are gone. It’s as if they have been warned of her presence.

  She reaches the darkened area. A pool of waning life energy lies here, like a puddle of mercury. It sparkles occasionally. Amber reaches her fingers into it. It is partially warm. Her fingers glow white as she touches it.

  The young woman did not want to die. She wanted life. She was taken brutally.

  Amber retreats. Shuts her eyes. Concentrates her breathing. She opens her eyes, the world has returned to normal. She bows her head. A feeling of sadness filling her.

  She meets Brata at the cordon gate. He smokes a Gudang Garam, a local brand of spiced kretek cigarette. The humid air is filled with its spicy, pungent odour; aromas of smouldering tobacco and cloves not entirely unpleasant.

  Brata watches her curiously. ‘You okay?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  Back in the car, back on the street. A scooter rolls ahead of them with four people crammed upon it: a male, driving, two children squished in behind him and a woman on the back.

  Brata looks across at Amber. ‘So, this method of yours. What do you see? What are you looking for?’

  ‘I hope to see the restless spirit of a deceased victim. I hope that if I do, I might communicate with it. Her or a wandering spirit who may have witnessed the death. And there’s always the chance I might encounter the perpetrator itself.’

  ‘Did you see any such thing back there?’

  She shakes her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Was dis same as Bali Sanur Resort?’

  ‘Yes. I encountered nothing there either.’

  ‘Dis iss normal? Do you normally see such spirits?’

  ‘Sometimes. Not always. If I do, often they do not speak. Sometimes they remain silent. They do not trust the living.’

  He drives. She sits. Her hand tingles. She gazes out the window.

  Ten minutes later… through traffic… they arrive at their next location.

  They are at the back of a sport’s field. It butts up against a school. The victim here was another local Balinese girl, Brata explains. Her womb, like the others, removed. There’s no cordon here. No sign that such a brutal crime was committed. Nothing except for small floral offerings to appease the spirits. Hibiscus trees grow along a weed strewn path, pink flowers fluttering in the breeze. Coke cans and plastic bags litter the grass. Kites fly over the rooves of nearby dwellings. There seems to be no-one around.

  ‘No one will come here,’ Brata tells Amber. ‘People believe d
at demons kill da young woman.’ He stands back to allow Amber to conduct her work alone.

  Amber approaches the area pointed out by Brata. Again, concentrating her mind, she dips into the spectral realm. The world around her turns blue. She looks about. No lost or wandering spirits here. Once again, it is as if all have been chased away.

  She finds a shallow pool of life essence. Where the girl’s body was discovered. A small shimmering pool resembling liquid mercury. She reaches her fingers into it. It is cold. Nothing has been here for a while. Like the previous pool, it feels tainted. Nothing drinks from it.

  From a distance Brata watches. Intrigued. He watches Amber lie down in the shade. Shutting her eyes. He sees her skin darken. He believes he sees her eyes sink. He believes he sees her skin deflate against her ribs.

  She remains in this position for some minutes.

  A couple of kids on bikes ride by on the opposite side of the sport’s field. Brata turns to watch. They stop for a moment to see what Brata is doing. Then ride on.

  When Brata turns back he sees Amber walking toward him.

  He waits till she reaches him. He believes her skin looks slightly grey. As if she lacks some colour. She’s also silent until they return to Brata’s car.

  They sit inside, the car idles, the air conditioning ducts gush with cool, dry air. Brata looks across at Amber. ‘So, what did you find?’ he asks her.

  Amber sighs. As if coming out of a daydream. Eventually she says, ‘I don’t know.’ She’s thoughtful for a while. Then she says, ‘Seems like our perpetrator has done much to cover its tracks. I find no wandering spirits. I sense the spirits of these dead girls have gone.’

  Brata pulls the car back onto the dirt lane and heads back toward Sanur. Chickens pick at things in the roadway ahead of them. A small pig noses about a pile of rubbish left on the lane’s shoulder. A skinny old dog with much of its fur missing watches the car roll by.

  ‘How do your methods work?’ Brata wants to know.

  Amber shrugs, feeling mildly drained. ‘A strange gift I have. Much of the time I don’t entirely understand it. I can see… certain things.’

  Brata’s not sure if she’s telling him the truth. ‘In Bali, many people believe dat what we can see, the world around us, while we are conscious, dis is sekala. But there iss another world that we cannot see. A dark world where da dark spirits and ghosts live. Dis world iss called niskala.’ He watches her closely. ‘Iss dis what you see? Iss dis where you go?’

  They are back in traffic now. Amber watches people plodding the pavements. Or people in bars. People in restaurants. She sees a man with a small monkey, a grey macaque, a chain attached to a collar around its throat. ‘Perhaps it is,’ she says.

  He does not pressure her for an explanation. Nonetheless, he offers her a friendly warning. ‘Here in Bali, I would advise you keep your method a secret. Traditionally, Balinese people fear dark magic.’ Brata slows the car and points to small smouldering objects on the sidewalk. He points to the Hindu shrines outside shops and businesses. ‘All dees offerings left here, you see dem? On da concrete. In da shrine. Da little baskets? We call dem canang. Offerings to keep away da leyak.’ He glances across at her. ‘You know leyak?’

  Amber shakes her head. ‘I have not yet heard of this term.’ Or if she has, she currently cannot remember.

  ‘Ghost. Dark spirits. Demon.’ He smiles. ‘If someone see you change your shape… dey might mistake you for dis leyak.’ He keeps driving. Tooting his horn at a truck unloading cane furniture, blocking much of the road. ‘Many people might run away if dey see dis. If dey suspect you of being such a thing. But there are some, out of fear and suspicion, who may try to harm you.’ He smiles again. ‘You hear what I’m saying?’

  The final location looms. The grounds of an abandoned house off Sanur’s Jalan Danau Tamblingan. It is overrun. With weeds. Tall grass. Chunks of masonry litter the garden. Hidden dangers. Windows are long ago shattered. Creepers climb the recesses. Roof tiles are dislodged. Darkened rooms where sun light has no direct touch… There is an ominous feeling here… like things are looking out, watching.

  The afternoon grows long. Kites continue to hover high above Sanur. Fluttering there all the day long. Tethered to distant, unseen houses. Squirrels chase each other across the knots of power lines that crisscross between houses. The sounds of traffic come from the street. Motorbikes. Trucks. Tooting horns.

  Brata pulls up at the curb. ‘Da last body woss found here a week ago,’ he tells Amber. ‘A twenty year old woman. From Holland.’

  Amber nods. She says nothing as she leaves the vehicle. Brata frowns, growing concerned for her. Also a tad wary. He’s conscious that her exposure to these places might bring on a possession. That something, the monster, might corrupt her.

  He leaves his car and waits at the curb. Lighting up another Gudang Garam. Sucking in the heavy smoke of clove and tobacco. Again he keeps his distance. Giving Amber her space.

  The grounds of the house are surrounded by a tall concrete wall. Glass shards fixed along its top edge, to keep out intruders. It matters not however—the gate to the derelict residence is no longer fixed in place. Yet after the latest murder none will come close to this place. The threat of evil spirits looms large in the eyes of the Balinese locals.

  Amber passes by a thorny bougainvillea, half its branches leaning on and woven through a stunted mango tree. Wild passionfruit vines climb across the ground and up through the dark, broken windows of the house. Amber feels her skin tingling. Her senses heightened. She feels an energy here that she did not experience at the previous locations. An energy that puts her on edge.

  The tropical air remains hot, humid. There is little breeze. Still, a chill envelopes her. Something is present here. She feels it.

  Shielded from the street by shrubs and grass, she lies down. On the spot where the girl drew her last breath. It is toward the rear of the house. Hidden behind a tangle of bougainvillea on weed strewn rubble. Something is different here. She sees ghosts looking at her from the shadows. These do not retreat.

  She enters the corpse world. She looks about. Some dark presence is nearby. She feels it almost immediately, quite strongly. She stands. Looks about. Turns toward the house. Somethings is inside…

  She moves toward the nearest window. Peers within. Darkness in there.

  She shudders. Something watches her. Two white eyes in the dark peer back at her.

  She stays very still, trying to get her eyes on it. It hurts. Something pains her.

  Her breath begins to shorten. Her skin feels like ice. The entity hisses quietly at her from the shadows.

  She contemplates entering the abode. She hesitates. Considers her options… The afternoon has drained her somewhat. Whatever this creature is, she senses its malevolence. She has not yet identified it. Does not understand its strengths. Nor its weaknesses. Nor what drives it, its motivations. If it were to attack, she needs to know these things. To defend herself. To fight it.

  She takes a step backwards. Leaving it to its shadows.

  Brata drives Amber back to her hotel. ‘You shall return to dat house tonight?’ he asks. He sounds quite incredulous.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Yes. It must be that way. I sensed a presence.’

  He watches her. ‘Human or something else?’

  ‘Something else. You were right. We are dealing with something unnatural.’

  ♥

  ~ CHAPTER FIVE ~

  VERONIKA

  Amber books a full body massage. She feels jet lag catching up with her. She feels the toll of the day’s inspections making her weary. She plans to enjoy her massage. Enjoy a swim. Then sleep until midnight. Before heading out into the night.

  Her massage lasts an hour. In a thatch-roofed hut in the grounds of the Villa Apsara. Conducted by two attractive Balinese women. Long dark hair. Pretty smiles. She is asked to strip down to nothing but her panties. Breasts bare. She lies face down. For the fi
rst half of the massage, supple Balinese hands work her tightened back muscles. The backs of her thighs. Her calves. The backs of her arms. Her feet and toes. Warm scented oil covering her skin.

  Her mind wishes to contemplate the murders. For now though she tunes it out. Meditating. Clearing her thoughts.

  A soft voice at her ear. Requesting that she turn over.

  Soft hands push against her thighs. Another works on her feet. Reflexology. She clears her thoughts again. Until she feels the masseur’s hand and fingers work their way up her belly and ribs. To her breasts. Warm oil covers her. Warm hands treat her. Circular motions. Amber enjoys the simple sweet sensuality of it. The physical touch of a woman’s hands upon her. Although, she cannot deny the way her nipples tingle at each delicate pass of the masseur’s palms.

  A head massage completes the session. Simply divine, Amber feels. She will wait to see how her schedule evolves. If it proves favourable, she will certainly book another session.

  She dresses. Takes the paved path through the hotel gardens. The fish ponds with their golden carp. The birds nest ferns growing from the stems of palms. The frangipani trees with their pink and golden flowers, the scent heavy on the muggy air.

  She approaches her room… and frowns… a mental message tickling her…

  It’s enough to cause her to deviate. Toward the pool.

  She sees her. A woman. As if the world were but black and white, and the woman were the only colourful thing.