Relief struggling with misgiving, I turned the light on and advanced towards the fireplace, but I stopped half-way, for lying in front of it, beside the overturned card-table, lay a body – Victor’s. He was lying face downwards, curiously humped like a snail, under his brown Jaeger dressing-gown, which covered him and the floor around him. And it was from his dressing-gown, which was smouldering in patches, and stuck all over with playing cards, some of which were also alight, that the smell of burning came. Yes, and from Victor himself; for when I tried to lift him up I found beneath him a half-charred log, a couple of feet long, which the pressure of his body had almost extinguished, but not quite, and from which I could not at once release him, so deeply had it burnt into his flesh.
But the Persian carpet, being on the unburnt, underside of the log, was hardly scorched.
Afterwards, the explanation given was that the log had toppled off the fireplace and rolled on to the carpet; and Victor, coming down on a tour of inspection, had tripped over it and died of shock before being burnt. The evidence of shock was very strong, the doctor said. I don’t know whether Nesta believed this: shortly afterwards she sold the house. I have since come to believe it, but I didn’t at the time. At the time I believed that Victor had met his death defending the house against a fire-raising intruder, who, though defeated in his main object, had got the better of Victor in some peculiarly horrible way; for though one of Victor’s felt slippers had caught fire, and was nearly burnt through, the other was intact, while the footprints leading to the wall – though they were fainter than they had been the other time – both showed the mark of a great toe. I pointed this out to the police who shrugged their shoulders. He might have taken his slippers off and put them on again, they said. One thing was certain: Victor had literally embraced his neurosis, and by doing so had rid himself of it for ever.
Eric C. Higgs
BLOOD OF THE KAPU TIKI
Until recently, Eric C. Higgs was something of a mysterious figure to many horror fans, known chiefly as the author of an undisputed classic of ’80s horror, The Happy Man (1985), a book that achieved a cult status and long fetched sensational prices on the secondhand market when one of the scarce copies came available. After publishing three novels in the 1980s, Higgs disappeared from fiction writing, leaving fans to wonder what had become of him. It is with bittersweet feelings that we offer this brand-new tale marking Eric Higgs’s long-awaited return to horror, since he passed away suddenly shortly after sending us the manuscript. We are pleased to be able to present it here for the first time, and we feel sure fans of his other work will enjoy it.
Melina sat down hard, feeling as if the wind had been knocked from her lungs. Never had she felt so disoriented, so surprised, so violated.
‘Divorce,’ she said hoarsely, staring at the floor. Her lunch suddenly felt like a rock in her stomach and she wondered if she were going to vomit. ‘My God, Kevin . . . did you really just say . . .’
Her husband brought the expensive lighter’s flame to an even more expensive Cohiba Robusto. ‘Can it really be this much of a surprise?’
Melina looked up, eyes flashing with sudden heat. ‘You’d better believe this is some kind of damned surprise!’
‘Oh, come on.’ Kevin blew out a plume of smoke. ‘Haven’t you noticed how, well, how we’ve been growing apart?’
‘Have you . . . met someone? Is that it?’
He looked away. ‘With my schedule? Are you mad? No way!’
Melina gripped the sofa’s armrest so tightly her knuckles turned white. ‘Then for God’s sake – what is it?’
‘Well. You know. People fall in love. And then they drift apart.’
‘You said our love was eternal!’
‘Oh, please, Melina.’ Kevin sat in the brand-new lounge chair with a sigh. The furniture store had only delivered it last week. Melina remembered how happy they’d been when they’d bought it. Hadn’t even blinked at the four-thousand dollar price tag. Because the good times were supposedly here. The good times were fat and juicy and ready to roll. Because the big payoff for all the hard work was but an angel’s breadth away. ‘People say all kind of silly things when they’re in love, dear. But then things change.’
‘All I know is that I’ve been busting my tail—’
‘Doing what?’ He scoffed as he puffed at his cigar. ‘You haven’t been doing any work for the past year that I’m aware of. A maid comes in every day to clean up this mess, and—’
Melina hitched herself to the edge of the sofa, her brown eyes flashing. ‘But that was the deal! I was to put you through school, and when you graduated—’
‘You’d do nothing but sit on your butt? And be this suburban . . . well, whatever it is you’ve become?’
Melina had never loved anyone as much as she’d loved Kevin. But suddenly she hated him. Hated his chiseled surfer-boy looks, his tailor-made suit, even his aromatic cigar. Could she really have been this much of a fool, all along?
‘I supported you,’ Melina said evenly. ‘For years. Years, Kevin! First medical school. And then when you had the bright idea of going to law school, I supported you through that—’
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ Kevin got up from the sofa angrily, went to an ashtray and crushed out the cigar.
‘Ten years, Kevin.’ Melina’s eyes shot daggers into his broad back. ‘Ten years of waitressing and telemarketing and every kind of shit job I could get, just to keep us chugging along—’
Kevin wheeled around. ‘And it worked! It worked! Now I’m a lawyer and a doctor – and in the one year I’ve finally been able to practice I’ve made two-hundred-and-eighty thousand dollars! And that’s just the start! Do you have any idea how much money a lawyer who’s been trained as a doctor can make in malpractice suits? Next year that two-hundred-and-eighty is going to look like it came off the kiddie table!’
‘But just for you, huh? Is that it? Now that the dream is finally here – Melina’s out in the cold?’
Kevin regarded his wife evenly. And tried to remember the girl he’d met in Honolulu, back when he didn’t have so much as a pot to piss in or a broken window to throw it out of. Hot, she’d been. Hottest Hawaiian babe he’d ever laid eyes on. Hell, hottest damn woman ever to hit the planet. But boy how time had taken its cruel, cruel toll. She was only thirty now. But already looked forty. A hard forty, at that. The lovely olive skin was now an unappealing sort of lackluster brown, the once-slender face had gone puffy, the Hawaiian Tropic Bikini Contest figure had turned downright matronly. Had she been taking lessons in how to become an ugly old frump?
‘You won’t be out in the cold,’ Kevin said in the reasonable tones that his own father, that bastard, had favored for the rolling-out of bad news. ‘You’re entitled to half of everything I’ve made to this point. My lawyer will contact your—’
‘NO!’ Melina flung herself off the sofa and wrapped her arms around Kevin’s knees, pressing her face against the lightweight wool of the tailored pants. ‘No, Kevin! I won’t let you go! You can’t do this to me!’
Kevin tried to back up, lip curling with disgust. ‘Melina, please—’
‘Don’t leave me, Kevin!’ She knew this was wrong. Knew this was degradation beyond all degrading debasement. Knew that what she should be doing was plunging a kitchen knife into his treacherous heart. But found herself powerless in this last surge of mindless love from her breaking heart. ‘Darling, whatever it is you want from me, I’ll do it! I want to have your children, I want to start our family! I’ll change any way you want! I’ll be the wife you want! Just don’t leave me!’
Kevin yanked at her shoulders but she tightened her grip and he finally had to shove her away roughly. She hit the floor with a thump.
‘Melina! My God! Get a grip!’
She looked up, tears standing on her eyelids. ‘Oh, darling,’ she cried. ‘Darling, please . . .’
Kevin threw on his jacket and headed for the door. Melina pushed herself up, unreasoning love changing to u
nreasoning hate in the space of a heartbeat. She glared at her husband with eyes that seemed to spit electric sparks. ‘Where are you going? Off to your whore?’
‘There’s no one else!’ Kevin threw open the door and stared at Melina contemptuously. ‘If you must know the truth of it, I’m leaving because I can’t stand another minute of your hog body and hog face!’
Kevin slammed the door.
Melina collapsed to the carpet and let go with a series of great, racking sobs.
Kevin took the key out of the special hiding place in his wallet and slipped it in the bungalow’s lock. Opened the door and stepped inside the small living room. There was only one candle and it was inside a red lantern, throwing off a soft and sensuous light. Gentle music with a slow jungle rhythm flowed from hidden speakers.
Alicia sprawled on the sofa, smoking a cigarette, the moonlight showing that she was in a long white kimono. And nothing else.
‘Thought you’d never get here,’ Alicia said, smoke drifting from her model’s lips. ‘I’d just about given up.’
Kevin tried to say hello but the words caught in his throat. He was, as always, awed by her beauty. Had been, ever since she walked into his office six weeks ago. Tall, graceful as a leopard, eyes full of languid secrets. A prize beyond all prizes.
Kevin moved toward her, reaching out.
‘Did you tell her, Kevin? Is it done?’
Kevin ignored her question and came to the sofa as if in a trance. He started to take her into his arms—
‘Hold on, buster.’ Alicia pushed Kevin away . . . but not without giving him a heart-stopping glimpse of a full and beautiful bosom just beneath the folds of the kimono. ‘You said you were going to tell her tonight.’
Kevin stared at her with eyes emptied of reason. Alicia got up with an impatient sigh and looked down at him, hands on hips.
‘Answer me, Kevin. Did you tell her?’
‘I . . . told her . . .’
‘And that you’re going to file for divorce?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that you and I are getting married?’
‘She knows everything.’
The cross look on Alicia’s face held for a moment longer . . . and then she smiled. A sexy smile that Kevin found himself falling into, like a swimmer caught in a mighty vortex.
‘Well, then.’ Alicia pulled the gown off her shoulders and let it drop. Kevin’s eyes widened. Nothing he’d seen on the internet had ever come within a million miles of this. No, the hottest porn star in the world wasn’t even in the same universe as this. Nothing was.
It seemed like he couldn’t take a breath. His heart thumped and hammered. He wondered if it might explode.
But if it does explode, he thought as he blindly reached for her, I’ll die the happiest son of a bitch on this planet.
Melina made her way upstairs slowly. She felt a hundred years old, and prayed for the energy for what needed to be done.
But when Melina made it to the bedroom she collapsed on the bed with a moan. Forget about it, she thought. Just concentrate on finding a lawyer who was ten times scarier than Kevin and get him to skin the bastard six ways to Sunday. Then get on with the rest of your life.
But then the drab years of plugging away at the lousy little jobs marched before her eyes. Up in the mornings at five. Then coming home at six to have Kevin tell her yet again that they were a team, that they were building a bright future together. And then scarfing down a cup of instant soup and getting dressed for her evening job. Ten years of it. Never one sick day. Never one vacation. It had made her old before her time.
Melina got off the bed.
It took a good twenty minutes of rummaging in back of the closet, but then she found it. The box Grandma Kalapana had given her on her wedding day. It was dusty and covered with so much grime it was difficult to make out the fearsome little figures carved on the side.
Melina went to the balcony and set the box on the glass table. It looked black and forbidding in the moonlight.
She took a breath . . . reached for the box . . . and with a swift motion opened it.
Inside was a bowl and a vial.
Melina took out the bowl. It was a hideous thing, held aloft by three squat little Polynesian gods, their mouths open with silent screams.
Next, the vial. It was bamboo, very old. Melina opened the cork carefully . . . and was greeted by a stench that was both horrid and yet somehow cloying.
Melina poured the oily liquid into the bowl. It reflected the moonlight dully. She raised her hands in supplication and looked at the moon.
‘Makua kahiko,’ she said as she waved her right hand over the bowl, then the left. ‘Makua kahiko . . . ho’olono a’u.’
Melina looked into the depths of the oily liquid. It swirled and shimmered like black mercury. And her heart skipped a beat when a dim figure softly came into focus, like the image on a slowly-developing Polaroid.
She closed her eyes. “Kanuna Ôana’ana!”
And when Melina looked into the bowl again she saw Kevin. And a blond wahine.
They were on a sofa, naked, the woman’s head thrown back with a kind of triumphant joy as Kevin hammered against her like a machine, grimacing with effort . . . and then his eyes rolled back and his mouth widened with a coarse bellow that sounded like he’d been run through with a sword.
Kevin lay on the sofa, smoking, feeling his heart slow down. And watching Alicia dress. She had selected a long Chinese jacket of bright red silk, and as she buttoned it up to her lovely throat he was appreciative of the fact that she wore nothing underneath. This would come in handy when it was time to initiate Round Two in the evening’s festivities. But that would be later. Now the edge was off and he was quite content to enjoy her beauty for its own sake.
‘I’ve got a little barbecue going out back.’ Alicia brushed a blond hair out of the way and smiled. ‘Spicy coconut chicken.’
‘Hmmm. And drinks?’
‘Lots of drinks. All you want.’ She smoothed the dress down and smiled. She was as slim in the hips as she was full in the bust. ‘Party’s just getting started,’ she purred. ‘Best party in the world.’
Kevin’s heart gave a little skip that let him know Round Two might not be so far off after all. And there was a definite possibility there’d be a Five and Six as well. Kevin got off the sofa and went to the bathroom. Retrieved the shorts and Hawaiian shirt from their customary spot behind the door. It was time to party down. Yes sir, by God, and by all that was holy, it was at long last time for serious partyin’ down.
Melina looked up from the bowl and closed her eyes. She had held onto some last vestiges of youth when she looked into the bowl, but now all of her prettiness seemed to be gone. But what had replaced it was not altogether unlovely. A mature sort of beauty now sat upon her face, the sort that spoke of tests endured and won, of passing sorrows and passing joys, and the sure knowledge that she was part of something that would remain until the end of time. It was a powerful beauty.
But it was also dark.
The moon went behind a cloud. Cool wind blew strands of black hair across her face. Melina opened her eyes . . . eyes that were a thousand years old . . . and looked into the bowl.
Kevin strode down the pebble path to the far reaches of Alicia’s back yard. Smiled when he saw that things were in full-on ‘tiki mode’. There were no electric lights, just the yellow glow of garden torches, throwing the lush foliage into dramatic light and shadow. And of course, the strange, slow, retro music that Alicia loved flowed from hidden speakers.
‘See you got some new tikis.’ Kevin nodded toward one of the carved Polynesian gods, this one a good six feet tall.
Alicia looked up from the grill with a fashion model’s smile. ‘You know I can’t resist them. They’re good luck. And as far as I’m concerned, one can’t have enough good luck.’
‘Well, it looks like you’re about due to win the lottery.’ Kevin surveyed the totems – some only a foot tall, others coming up to wa
ist level – and stopped counting at eight. There were still more, half-hidden by the banana trees and elephant ears, their fierce little faces seeming to move and twist in the flickering torch light.
Kevin pulled out a chair. ‘Where’s this drink you were promising?’
‘Right here.’ Alicia looked as pleased as a little girl as she fetched the drink tray. It contained a pitcher of some red liquid and two black mugs that looked like miniature statues from Easter Island. ‘It’s called “Blood of the Kapu Tiki.”’
‘Ah.’
‘Two kinds of rum, lime juice, orange juice, and . . . other things.’ Alicia finished pouring and garnished the drinks with bright paper umbrellas. Handed one to Kevin. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers, baby. To us.’
‘Us. Tiger.’
Kevin raised his eyebrows at the taste. Tart. Delicious. Lethal. His next sip took the drink down to the halfway mark.
Alicia smiled. ‘Better watch yourself. These things are deadly.’
‘Kiddo, you’re talking to a boozer from way back.’ Kevin reached for the pitcher.
‘Cigar?’ Alicia opened a mahogany humidor.
Kevin selected a panatela and lit up, watched with a smile as Alicia went back to the grill. She knew how to treat a man, that was for sure. No nagging, no drag-assing around the house, no moaning about how tired she was after a hard day of work. And always taking care to make sure she never gained so much as an ounce.
Unlike Melina.
Kevin blew out a plume of smoke and sat back with a sigh. The hidden garden speakers hummed with a mysterious jungle of choruses and exquisite vibraphonic syncopation. One of the tikis looked at him with wide, angry eyes and a mouth full of dagger-like teeth.
Poor Melina, Kevin thought. Her heart was in the right place, but she just didn’t have what it took to be the wife of an important man. He was too stupid to understand this when he was twenty-two, but now that ten years had passed he could see how the right wife was crucial to an ambitious man’s career. Bill Allingsway, the senior partner, had that sort of wife. Beautiful, smart, able to throw parties that attracted famous politicians and famous artists. And as for the other side of the coin, one only had to consider poor old Sam Kovacks. He’d really blown it with his new wife. Young enough to be his granddaughter, dumb as a hammer, and saddled with a set of enormous fake breasts. It had everyone laughing behind Kovacks’ back. And despite all his years at the firm, suddenly the juicy cases weren’t coming Kovacks’ way anymore.
The Valancourt Book of Horror Stories Page 11
