Feral Hearts

by Edward P. Cardillo

Now that the car was a bit closer, he saw that it didn't actually look like any resort he had ever been to. It looked more like an old village that developed around this central building. Carlos had better have not fucked this up. It would cost him his job, if not his career, if this place was anything less than he had been made to believe.

  The sedan slowed to a halt at the curb, the grand building to his left. The driver got out and opened Barry's door, making a grand flourish with his arm, beckoning him to enter.

  "What about my bags?" Barry turned back to point at the trunk, when he saw a sight for sore eyes.

  Down the block, he saw a drop dead gorgeous woman, barely clothed, her long legs practically glowing in the sallow lighting. Her breasts were just covered by a silky blouse, gaping open, and her long, raven hair framed a face that belonged in a magazine. Vogue or Penthouse, either would work for Barry.

  The driver grunted at the star, a suitcase in each hand, as he nodded toward the door. They neared the entrance as he looked back at the woman.

  "Maybe later. Maybe later."

  Chapter 9

  Possession

  Edward P. Cardillo

  Mary and I had been dating for three months and were very much in love. It was during those three months that the attacks grew increasingly frequent. My Tormentor had seen it fit to leave the anonymity of the shadows. She’d sometimes appear in my dreams as a beautiful woman with flowing brown hair and porcelain skin.

  Other times I’d awaken in my bed, sometimes with my Mary next to me, to find Her staring down at me with those eyes that blazed in the darkness with a mixture of hatred and jealousy. You see, She felt an intimacy with me that was as deep as it was unwelcome.

  While Mary knew not of my inner turmoil, my quagmire of insecurities that caused me to second guess every thought, every action I made, the Demon Whore knew what troubled my heart. To consummate our unholy bond, she revealed Her name—or a name—to me: Viktoriya.

  I cursed Her, told Her to leave me alone. I even threatened her with harm I couldn’t possibly visit upon her if she dared lay a pale finger on my Mary. Viktoriya only laughed at me, a cruel act of derision towards something she valued as less than an insect.

  Yet, She haunted this lowly insect every day of my miserable existence, doing her best to spoil any happiness I found with my new love. Mary tried to feed me, cook for me, to get my weight up. She said I looked like a ghost or zombie fresh from the grave. None of her efforts found fruition, and it frustrated her greatly.

  Viktoriya fed off of any conflict She stirred up in our relationship, lapping up every seed of doubt She planted. I would wake up with love bites and lipstick on my neck that I hadn’t gone to bed with, which caused Mary great pain and confusion. Other times, I would shut the window to my bedroom at night only to find it open in the morning, Viktoryia’s kisses planted on my body like cold frost on glass, melting away in the sunlight.

  One evening, I couldn’t stand it any longer. The snow was falling outside, and there was that absolute silence and stillness that one only found in a snowstorm, but inside I was at war with myself. I had to tell Mary or risk losing her…or worse, endangering her life through ignorance. The burden on my conscience, on my soul, was unbearable, so I let the truth out like water bursting from a dam. Mary listened patiently, to her credit refraining from interrupting me until the entire grisly tale was told.

  I asked her if she thought I was crazy, but she said she did not. I laughed like an idiot and asked her why. She replied that the look on my face and the gravity of my tone were enough to tell her I was being truthful.

  “What do we do now?” I asked her.

  “We’ll wait for this Viktoriya tonight, and we’ll confront her until she agrees to leave you alone for good.”

  I laughed at this. How do you confront a shadow? How do you cajole something that skulks around in the darkness to agree to anything? I pleaded with Mary to leave this place, the both of us. Perhaps we could outrun this Demon. Perhaps we could hide.

  However, Mary was adamant about not running. Although I was terrified at the night to come, part of me was relieved that, one way or another, this nightmare would be resolved through confrontation.

  That evening, around midnight (as cliché as it seemed), Viktoriya drifted in through my window with the ice and frost, a terribly beautiful apparition standing before my bed. She laughed at me, baring her fangs and flashing me her cleavage. “Where’s the bitch?”

  “Hello,” said Mary from a chair in the corner of the room. “You must be Viktoriya.”

  Viktoriya, startled, turned around, grinning wickedly. “So, you warn me against harming her and yet you lead her to me so that she may look on me.”

  “It was my idea,” said Mary. “You must leave him alone. Go bother someone else.”

  “And who should I bother? Perhaps I should bother you now that you’ve set eyes upon me. Or perhaps I should plague your poor, sick mother.”

  “No!” I shouted, rebuking the Demon.

  Mary put her hand up to silence my protest. “You do not frighten me. You pick on the lonely, feeding on their fear. My mother isn’t lonely. She has me and my two sisters to look after her.”

  “What about him?” hissed Viktoriya, pointing a long, white, clawed finger at me. “Is he not lonely?”

  “Not anymore, which is why you have to leave him alone now.”

  Viktoriya smiled wide, flashing her terrible fangs in a display of dominance, not just as predator over prey but one lover over a rival. “I assure you, he is very much alone. He harbors secrets that he dares not share with you for fear of your reaction.”

  “Shut up, you nasty cunt!” I hollered at her. “Mary, she lies.”

  “I know she does,” replied Mary, but I wasn’t sure in that moment if she really believed it to be true or not. “She’s desperate and lashing out.”

  “Oh,” said Victoriya with profound menace, “I assure you, I haven’t yet begun to ‘lash out.’ He’s told me things that he wants no person to know—one secret in particular that will make you desperate.”

  “I don’t know what she’s talking about!” I reassured Mary.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Mary with a strength that was admirable given the circumstances. “So what are you going to do, Viktoriya, stalk us for the rest of our lives? We’re not afraid of you. You’re wasting your time here.”

  “Are you kidding?” asked Viktoriya. “I can cut his fear with a knife, sink my teeth into it, savor its palpability.”

  “You can never have him because he’s mine now, and I don’t share. You’ve lost, Viktoriya. You’ve lost him. Be a good bitch and move along. This whole display is beneath you.”

  Viktoriya had a flash of rage, but she quickly composed herself, the room growing colder as she did so. “So, what you’re saying is that, as long as you’re in the picture, I cannot have him?”

  “I’m saying he’s mine. Now fuck off.”

  The Demon She-Bitch smiled wickedly. “I see.”

  She drifted back across the room and flew out the window. The room became twenty degrees warmer after she left, and I ran to Mary, holding her in my arms.

  “See, I told you I’d chase her away,” said Mary, looking into my eyes.

  “No,” I said with a heavy heart, “you’ve just made it worse.”

  I lay awake that night watching over my Mary as she slept. How she could’ve slept after an exchange like that was a mystery to me. She had just touched the dark plane of the unholy, and she slept like a baby in my bed. Perhaps it was exhaustion from the ghastly trial.

  I must’ve fallen asleep, because I woke with the sunlight on my face.

  Mary was gone.

  Her disappearance was made to look as if she had reconsidered her position and left me of her own volition, but I knew better. I knew that was what the Abomination wanted me to think, that I had been abandoned by my love. She wanted me to believe that so I’d come crawling back to Her.

  Predictably,
Mary didn’t answer or return any of my calls. Her family had called a search and the police were sent to my door, but I had already moved on.

  I fled for my life to outrun Viktoriya or die trying.

  Chapter 10

  Stefania’s Tour

  Edward P. Cardillo

  Jenna gazed upon the palatial Derosso Grande resort with wide eyes. In the pale moonlight it was simply magnificent. It was a wide two-story limestone structure with lots of pillars and balconies, sprinkled with little gardens ornamented with fountains of urinating cherubs.

  It was everything she hoped it could be and more.

  She shouldered her carry-on bag and grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase, and she approached the front steps…ten, to be precise. She stopped a moment, perturbed by even number, when someone bumped into her.

  “Pardon me,” she said in a mousy voice, even though she was the one bumped into.

  Barry “The Needle” barely regarded her as he ushered on past, staggering up the stairs as a man in a black suit followed behind carrying what must’ve been his luggage.

  “Can I help you with that?” asked a gentle voice from behind her.

  Jamie stood there with his own luggage at his feet and his right hand extended towards Jenna.

  “Ah, chivalry isn’t dead after all,” she quipped, liking the guy making the generous offer. There was something about him…that seemed…unassuming.

  Jenna handed him her carry-on, which he quickly slung over his right shoulder, and he grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase from her. She winced as he climbed each step, knowing that it would only end in ten, but she was appreciative for the help and for the gesture.

  Jamie descended the steps to retrieve his bags.

  “Thank you,” Jenna said.

  “Don’t mention it.” He turned to climb the steps, and Jenna was right at his side.

  “My name is Jenna,” she said extending a hand. She quickly withdrew it, cursing herself silently as both his hands were full.

  “Nice to meet you, Jenna. I’m Jamie.”

  Jenna was naturally a bundle of nerves around the opposite sex, but she was here to jump out of her comfort zone. “So, you wouldn’t be here for the singles tour, would you?”

  Jamie blushed, which Jenna found quite endearing. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  They walked through the front doors and into a lobby adorned with ornate wallpaper, crystal chandeliers, Victorian-style couches, and red carpeting. The drunk man who barreled past Jenna was now seated on a couch, holding his head. The man in the black suit dropped his luggage in front of him and stood there expectantly.

  “Aren’t you going to check me in?” Barry blurted out.

  Jenna and Jamie looked at each other. “I hope he’s not on the tour,” said Jamie. Jenna giggled anxiously.

  “The tour guide will handle that, sir,” said the man in the black suit. He waited.

  “Well, get on then,” said Barry, waiving a dismissive hand.

  “It is customary to tip, sir.”

  Barry sat forward, reaching in his pocket. “Ah, yes. My apologies.” It was more sarcasm than an apology.

  “So much for that,” said Jamie out of the side of his mouth.

  “This’ll be entertaining,” said Jenna, happy she found what might be a kindred spirit. She had to be careful. Normally, in socially ambiguous situations, she latched onto someone who she thought was a kindred spirit, but she liked Jamie. She had to be careful not to crowd him and wear out her welcome.

  Duly tipped, the man in the black suit left his charge and exited the lobby.

  “I guess we’ll wait over there for the tour guide,” said Jamie, gesturing to four couches arranged in a square in the center of the lobby. “Don’t worry; you can sit next to me.”

  Jenna smiled. It was as if he read her…goddammit! Four chandeliers. Really?

  They made their way to the couches and took a seat on one next to the drunkard, rather than across from him, so they didn’t have to look at him or have him stare at them.

  Right after they sat down, both of their heads turned as a good looking, blond-haired guy sauntered into the lobby wheeling in a large suitcase. Like the drunk asshole on the next couch, he was well-dressed in designer clothing. Behind him were two girls. One was pretty but very serious-looking. She wore a business casual outfit, kaki pants, and a blue button-down blouse with her hair tied back. The other was an attractive girl in a sluttier sense with heavy eye makeup, flowing hair, and dressed in tight black jeans and a tight black tank top.

  Jenna raised an eyebrow at Jamie, who shrugged casually.

  The well-dressed blond-haired guy approached the concierge first, while the two girls formed a line behind him.

  “Please have a seat,” said the concierge. “The tour guide will be along to check you all in and give an orientation shortly.”

  Jenna could barely contain her enthusiasm. She tensed her body, her sweaty palms rubbing on her knees. This was all so exciting. These were to be her fellow tour-mates, and what an interesting group it was.

  The guy and the two girls then made their way to the couches. He courageously took a seat across from the drunkard, and the two girls took the couch across from Jenna and Jamie.

  “Hi, I’m Lucy.”

  Jenna was very excited to meet one of the girls in the group. “Hi, Lucy. I’m Jenna.”

  “I’m Jamie.”

  Angela was looking at all the couches, sizing up the group. “I’m Angela,” she said to no one in particular.

  “Well, hi there, Angela,” said Paul, obviously fancying her. “I’m Paul.”

  “Hi, Paul.”

  “Hi, Paul,” said Lucy, Jenna, and Jamie.

  Barry was staring at Lucy. “Hi, Lucy. I’m Barry.”

  Lucy looked a bit uncomfortable at being singled out from the group, by this drunkard no less. “You okay, Barry?”

  “I had a little bit too much to drink in the limo.”

  “Oh, a limo. Nice. You must be someone pretty important!” interjected Jenna.

  “You don’t know who this is?” asked Paul of the group. “Really?”

  “I assume you’re going to tell us,” said Angela.

  Paul leaned forward grinning wide. “This is Barry ‘the Needle’ Nero!”

  “I don’t know if I’d broadcast that nickname on a singles tour,” said Angela. Lucy chortled.

  “He’s a famous tattoo artist,” explained Paul.

  “Oh, you’re on that reality show,” said Lucy, the name and profession ringing a bell.

  “So this is it?” asked Barry. “Where’s the rest of the tour?”

  Lucy and Angela traded looks, obviously insulted by the implication that they were apparently a disappointment. Jenna was busy gazing at Jamie, happy she found the one decent guy on the tour in her estimation. Jamie’s attention was torn between Lucy and Paul. Angela wasn’t too bad either.

  “I’m sure there’ll be more,” said Lucy. “Maybe there was a delay in a couple of the flights.”

  A young woman holding a large canvas bag entered the lobby from outside. She was a pretty brunette in shorts and a halter top. She had to have been around the same age as everyone in the group. Paul and Jamie perked up when they saw her. Barry kept staring poor Lucy down while she pretended not to notice.

  The young woman approached the concierge, smiling and saying hello. He handed her something, and she approached the group. “You are here for the singles tour?” she asked in a slight Italian accent.

  The group nodded.

  “Excellent! My name is Stefania. I’ll be your tour guide.”

  “Where’s the rest of the group?” asked Paul. “We thought it’d be bigger.”

  “You didn’t hear? There was a bomb scare at the London Heathrow Airport. All flights have been delayed. The rest of the group should be arriving sometime tomorrow. But not to worry. I’m going to give you an orientation tonight, we’ll do an ice breaker, and then I’ll take you around Deros
so so you can get acquainted with the town.”

  “Sounds good,” said Lucy. She was eager to get started. Why waste time waiting for the others? They were here now.

  “Excellent. If there aren’t any questions, I’d like to go over our itinerary.”

  She reached into her bag and pulled out some brochures. She handed them to Lucy, who dutifully passed them around.

  “Okay, first, tonight, we will explore the small town of Derosso. A quaint town with a small population, it is often a hub for tours of the Tuscany region due to its central location. Tomorrow we will take a ride to Florence, a big city full of art and culture…”

  “What about the rest of the group?” asked Paul.

  Stefania smiled. “We’ve arranged two buses. You all will be leaving on one bus. The other group will leave on theirs when they arrive. Another guide will orient them on their trip to Florence, where they will catch up with us.”

  Paul nodded, satisfied.

  “Florence,” she continued, “is a cultural center. You all have tickets to the famous Uffizi Gallery, we will gaze upon Michelangelo’s David, and we will drink in various Tuscan paintings. Nothing says romance like Florence in the summer.”

  “On Wednesday we’ll visit the Chianti region, a beautiful countryside of rolling hills dotted with cypress trees and old, family-run vineyards. We will stop at a few for some wine tasting, and at the last we will have a pasta lunch with all of the wine you can drink.

  “On Thursday we will visit the medieval walled-in fortress town of Siena, where we’ll meander through narrow streets and take in the art, cuisine, and the site of the Palio, the famous horserace held twice a year.

  “On Friday, we’re going to switch gears a bit and visit Cinque Terra outside of Tuscany in the Liguria region. ‘The Five Lands’ are five coastal villages that will remind you of the Caribbean more so than Italy. We’ll feast on fresh seafood, stroll from village to village, we’ll visit the famous Monterosso Pirate Church, and then we’ll spend some time on one of the small beaches soaking in sun and swimming in the turquoise water.