The Chupacabra

by Jean Flitcroft

  CHAPTER 9

  In spite of its fondness for killing goats, the Chupacabra has also been accused of killing birds, chickens, pigs, horses, and cows.

  The storm raged all day and all night, bringing down many large trees on the property. However, the great start to the rainy season turned out to be a false one, as the next morning the sun came out in a cloudless sky and not one more drop of rain fell during the girls’ stay on the ranch.

  There were no more riding lessons that week, and Vanessa saw very little of Armado or Joseph over the next few days, not even at meal times. She felt that the tension in the house was greater than usual.

  “Something’s up, don’t you think?” Vanessa said to Nikki as they sat on the terrace outside their bedrooms one afternoon. Neither of the girls could get used to the siesta thing. Xolo was sitting at Vanessa’s feet.

  “How do you mean?” said Nikki.

  “Well, can’t you feel it? Like everyone is walking around on eggshells,” Vanessa said, stroking Xolo’s head.

  “It’s probably because of the cow that died yesterday. One of the ranch hands found it after they went out to check storm damage. Everyone was very upset about it.”

  “Well, that’s not exactly a disaster, is it? I think they have another two thousand four hundred and ninety-nine left. So what’s the big deal?”

  “I don’t know, Vanessa. I suppose it is their livelihood,” Nikki said shortly.

  “Maybe it has something to do with the curse thing again. You remember Carmen said that the locals call it Devil Ranch? And that the animals die in a strange way?”

  “I remember Carmen didn’t want to talk about it, all right.”

  Nikki sounded irritated, and Vanessa felt a sudden pang of jealousy. Vanessa was a good friend, but Carmen was family, after all. The cousins were becoming very close these days.

  “I have to go.” Nikki stood up. “Embroidery at three o’clock. On the dot.” Nikki smiled. “You’re much happier in the kitchen with Izel, aren’t you?” she added.

  “Absolutely. Izel is wonderful. Maybe I’ll ask her about the cow and how it died.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Vanessa, you are like a dog with a bone,” Nikki said.

  A bone? Xolo looked up quickly and put his tongue out. The girls laughed together.

  “That’s one clever dog,” Vanessa said, standing up. Xolo stood up to follow her. “No, Xolo. You can’t come to the kitchen. Remember last time?”

  Xolo sat down again.

  “My God, he really does understand you!” Nikki said in amazement. “What happened in the kitchen last time?”

  Vanessa hadn’t told Nikki about the face at the window and the fright she got. “I’ll tell you later,” she promised.

  Izel was cracking eggs into a huge bowl when Vanessa arrived in the kitchen.

  “What are we making today?” Vanessa asked.

  “A cake.” Izel pointed to the bowl. “Ten cups of butter, one of goose fat, fifteen of brown sugar, a cup of honey, almonds and cherries soaked for two days in brandy, twenty cups of flour and thirteen eggs.”

  “Thirteen eggs! Mum used to use three in hers.” Izel shrugged her fat shoulders. “You’re in Mexico now. We like everything big here.”

  “My mum died two years ago,” Vanessa said quietly. She wanted Izel to know.

  “Yes, chica, Frida told me. She told me before you arrive.”

  Frida? Who had told her? Not Vanessa’s father, surely?

  “Was she pretty, like you?” asked Izel.

  Vanessa was overwhelmed for a moment by a flood of affection, and she put her arms halfway around the small woman’s large waist and hugged her hard.

  “I’m not pretty, Izel. But she was. Clever too.” Izel started to sieve the flour into the mixture.

  “People are always scared to talk to me about my mother. As if they don’t want to remind me. But I want to remember now. I think about her every day. At first it was hard, too painful, but Nessie—sorry …” She coughed to allow herself some time to think. “But someone helped me through the roughest part. It’s easier for me now.”

  She needn’t have worried about Izel peppering her with questions or staring at her the way Frida did.

  “She will always be close to you. Especially if you are in difficulty,” Izel said, still busy with the cake.

  Incredible. Here was a stranger from the other side of the world who understood exactly how she felt.

  “You know, my headmistress called me into her office after Mum died and told me that ‘time will heal.’”

  Izel stopped what she was doing and thought for a moment. “It is true that if your knee is hurt time will heal it, but what has it got to do with your mama dying?”

  Vanessa grinned. “Exactly! Time doesn’t make those feelings go away; it just changes them a little. The wound is still there.”

  As she said it, the word “wound” triggered another thought for Vanessa.

  “Izel, what happened to the animal that died in the storm yesterday?”

  Izel didn’t reply immediately. “There was more than one. They were attacked, their lifeblood drained from them. Es el diablo.”

  The devil again.

  “It sounds more like the Chupacabra to me,” said Vanessa lightly.

  Izel’s head shot up. “It is the same thing,” she said, her voice lower and harder than usual. She looked frightened to Vanessa. She put her finger to her lips. A silent warning.

  Vanessa was rooted to the spot. What was Izel trying to tell her? Did she believe in the Chupacabra? Had she seen it? Before Vanessa could ask her any questions, the kitchen door opened and Armado’s face appeared around it.

  “Is it safe to come in?” he asked.

  Vanessa wondered if he had heard them talking about the Chupacabra or if it was some long-standing joke that he shared with Izel.

  Izel wiped her hands on the front of her apron and opened her arms wide for him to hug her. Adoration was the only word for it.

  “Mado, Mado, ven acqui.”

  Armado allowed himself to be pressed to her chest, her wrestler’s arms enveloping him although he towered over her. He grinned at Vanessa over the top of Izel’s head.

  “I make your favorite—cherry brandy fool cake,” Izel cooed.

  “You eat too much cake, you get drunk, and you behave like a fool,” Armado explained to Vanessa with a grin. “Well, that is what her husband did when she made it, so that’s its name. But you won’t find it in any recipe book, I promise you. It’s an Izel special.”

  Vanessa smiled, but the word “fool” had brought back a flood of memories of their ride and her funny turn in the house, and Vanessa felt her tongue tie itself in knots.

  Armado dipped his finger in the cake mix and licked it clean, drawing a torrent of Spanish from Izel. Vanessa recognized the words caballos and sucio: horses and dirty. She smiled. That pretty much summed Armado up; he was always covered in a layer of ranch dust. Vanessa was pleased that she understood Izel. Even after a week her Spanish was definitely improving.

  “I just came in to see if you and Nikki wanted to come to Guanajuato tomorrow morning to get some supplies.”

  Vanessa was relieved. He wouldn’t have asked if he really thought that she was a mental case or that she might go all faint on him again, would he?

  “That would be fantastic; we’d love to.”

  “Papa said to tell you to be ready about ten-thirty tomorrow.”

  Papa. Of course, it was Joseph who was really asking them, not Armado. Vanessa had a fleeting moment of disappointment, but she nodded her agreement to the arrangement and smiled.

  “Don’t eat too much fool cake before I see you again,” Armado said over his shoulder as he walked out of the kitchen.

  Vanessa stared after him, her brain a scramble of emotions. What was that supposed to mean? She seemed to waver between liking Armado a lot one minute and wanting to punch him the next.

  CHAPTER 10

  On Saturday 29 Ap
ril 2000, Joseph Ismael Pino, a farm worker, saw the Chupacabra. He is reported to have said that “it hardly moved. It just stood there looking at me. It stood upright, five feet tall, with long clawed arms, enormous fangs protruding from its mouth.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with Xolo,” Carmen said. “I’ve never seen him like this. He’s moping around you all the time. What have you done to him, Vanessa?”

  The three girls, who were sitting on Carmen’s bed, looked down at the dog lying on the floor, his head on his front paws. As if on cue, he raised his head and fixed his eyes directly on Vanessa.

  “He’s in love!” Nikki threw a pillow at Vanessa. Vanessa threw it back hard, throwing herself after it so that they fell off the bed and almost flattened the dog. There was a knock on the door.

  “Carmen, que es? What is all that noise?” Frida’s sharp voice made them all jump.

  “Lo siento, Mama, sorry. My book fell off the bed onto the floor.”

  Vanessa and Nikki shoved their faces into their pillows to mute their giggles, amazed by Carmen’s quick lie.

  “It is already ten o’clock, Carmen; it is time you slept.”

  Vanessa prayed that Frida would not open the door and see them on the floor in such a state. It would be just too embarrassing.

  “Good night, Mama,” Carmen called.

  “Buenos noches, Carmencita, te quiero. Love you …” Vanessa was surprised at the loving way Frida had spoken. It was enough to make her stop giggling.

  They waited until Frida’s footsteps died away and then got back up on the bed. They had calmed down now and neither Nikki nor Vanessa knew what to say.

  Carmen did not notice that they were feeling uncomfortable. “You’re lucky to be such close friends,” she said. She brushed the hair off her forehead and looked wistful.

  Vanessa felt sorry for her. How lonely it must be for Carmen on the ranch. Frida was not exactly fun, and Armado and Joseph were not around much. It struck her that Carmen never talked about school or visiting friends.

  Vanessa yawned. It was getting late and they had an early start in the morning.

  “How far away is Guanajuato, Carmen?” Vanessa asked.

  “About twelve miles, but the roads are small and twisty so it takes time. Mado and Papa usually ride, but I suppose he wants to show off the town to you two, so we will go by car.”

  “Good. I don’t think my riding skills would be up to that yet,” said Vanessa.

  “Mado says you are a wonderful rider,” Carmen replied.

  Nikki arched her eyebrows quizzically. As a distraction, Vanessa quickly launched into the story about the storm and how they had had to take shelter in the derelict house.

  “You didn’t go inside, did you?” Carmen sounded alarmed.

  “Yes. Into the room that’s always dry.”

  Vanessa was beginning to wish she hadn’t started. Clearly Armado hadn’t mentioned going there or told Carmen about her funny turn.

  Nikki looked puzzled. “A room that is always dry. Well, why wouldn’t it be if it’s in a house?”

  “Yes, but it’s a wet house.” Vanessa was using a silly sort of voice to make fun of it. “This one room is always dry, although there is almost no roof and the rest of the house leaks like a sieve.”

  Carmen’s face remained serious.

  “Mado should not have taken you there. He knows we are forbidden to go there.” She spoke vehemently, and Vanessa could see how upset she was. What was it with that house? Vanessa tried to keep her breathing even, reluctant to remember the sensations that had overwhelmed her that day.

  “Why?” said Vanessa. “Tell me why, Carmen.”

  “Could someone please fill me in?” Nikki bleated. “Please?”

  “Malvado lives there now,” said Carmen quietly.

  “Malvado?” Vanessa asked. “Is that one of the locals?”

  “No, malvado means evil in Spanish,” Nikki said. “Now will you stop talking and tell me what happened?”

  At that moment, Vanessa could not speak even if she had known what exactly had happened. Her throat and chest were constricted so tight that they pained her.

  “A local, one of the Nahua, used to live in that house,” said Carmen. “I think he was the shaman—a good man. But he disappeared and then evil moved in.”

  “Disappeared?” said Nikki, her eyes wide.

  “When did that happen?” asked Vanessa. “When did he disappear?”

  “About four years ago,” Carmen replied. “Just before we came to the ranch.”

  Before they came to the ranch? Vanessa’s mind was racing. Joseph had told her that the ranch had been in the family for generations. It wasn’t adding up.

  “And has anything else strange happened since then?” asked Nikki.

  Carmen shook her head slowly.

  “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe the shaman just moved somewhere else, maybe to a better house.” Nikki would always look for the sensible solution.

  “That is what Mado says.” But Carmen was clearly not reassured. “Don’t ever say to Mama that he took you there. Anyway, it’s late. I think we need to get some sleep now.” Carmen was determined to bring the conversation to an end.

  CHAPTER 11

  While lots of tribes used to be head hunters, the Amazonian tribe called the Jivaro are the only people in the world to have shrunk human heads. In their culture a shrunken head is called a tsantsa and has significant powers.

  Back in her own room, Vanessa dug deep in her rucksack and pulled out her shrunken head. It was a strange thing to have, but it was one of her most treasured possessions. Its tiny face was wizened but in perfect proportion, and it was small enough to fit into the palm of her hand.

  Vanessa stared at the head, willing it to open its eyes and speak to her. The twine stitches across the eyelids and lips were a little grotesque, maybe, but the shrunken head fascinated her. It had originally belonged to her grandfather Todd—she called it Toddy, after him—and then to her mother. Vanessa had found it in the attic with her mother’s Cryptid Files. It was like a good-luck charm for her, and she brought it everywhere, even to school in her bag, although she never showed it to anybody, not even to Nikki.

  Usually holding it had the effect of calming her, of allowing her to think and sometimes even to find answers to impossible questions. She held it now, hoping it would inspire her to understand what was going on, but her mind was a frustrating blank.

  “What’s going on here?” she whispered to Toddy. Something was wrong. Was she the only one who felt it, or did others notice it? Izel certainly knew something. Frida, too?

  Sometimes Vanessa tried to imagine the person whose head this had been. She wondered about his age, his tribe. Head-shrinking was done to paralyze the spirit of the dead, she knew, so that they could not seek revenge on their killer. The Jivaro tribe, the people who made shrunken heads like this, had absolute belief in the power of the dead over the living, the power of the spiritual world over the physical one. Sometimes Vanessa felt as if she was caught somewhere between the two worlds herself.

  A scratching noise startled her, and she sat up in bed, her heart fluttering in her chest. The whine that followed made her laugh, and she flopped back onto the bed again. She imagined Xolo lying outside her bedroom door. Guarding her. She felt safer with him there. But safe from what? she asked the head. No answer.

  Then it struck her that there was someone else who knew what was going on in this place. Well, not exactly “someone” —Xolo. That dog had behaved strangely since she’d arrived. If only she could really talk to animals in the way that Armado teased her about.

  Vanessa tucked the shrunken head under her pillow. She looked at her watch. It was two in the morning and she wanted to sleep, but her thoughts kept running in circles.

  She imagined what her brothers Luke and Ronan were doing at home at that moment; where her dad and his girlfriend, Lee, were. Lee had been a good friend to Vanessa since their visit to Loch Ness, and as
a zoologist she knew a lot about animals. Maybe Vanessa should call Lee and ask her about the Chupacabra.

  Her thoughts moved on to the shaman’s house. Had Armado deliberately brought her there? Who was the shaman and where had he gone?

  Sleep. She would have to get some sleep. She put her hand beneath the pillow and held the head again. Could it really be hotter? It certainly seemed to be. Were her own feverish imaginings infecting it? She threw back the sheet to cool herself down.

  She didn’t understand it! Why was the shrunken head not having its usual calming effect? If she didn’t slow her mind down it just might burst into flames.

  She could just imagine the headlines: “Irish schoolgirl sets bed on fire; ranch burns to the ground.” Or “Brain fever sweeps through central Mexico—locals suspect that el diablo is at the center of it all.”

  Stop it!

  She got up and washed her face with cold water and brushed her hair until the roots hurt. Then she lay down again and watched the ceiling fan above her bed rotating slowly. She forced herself to think of embroidery, the needle making stitches—that would send her to sleep. It took a while, but finally her eyes grew heavy.

  “I’m just imagining things again, Toddy,” she whispered sleepily.

  Maybe not, the head replied under the pillow, but Vanessa had already fallen into a deep, untroubled sleep.

  CHAPTER 12

  On Wednesday 12 May 1996, in Mexico’s southern state of Chiapas, 28 dead rams were found with puncture wounds in their bodies.

  “Here they come,” Carmen announced as an army-style jeep scuttled and bumped down the track toward the girls. It was surrounded by a halo of red dust.

  “Hop in the back there, girls,” Joseph shouted through the open window. Despite all his years living in Mexico, his Irish accent still came through quite strongly sometimes.

  Once they were in, the jeep shot off at speed. Sitting in the middle, Vanessa felt a knobbly elbow dig painfully into her ribs from Nikki’s side. She turned to her, about to protest, but her friend was surreptitiously pointing to Armado. He was sitting in the front seat beside Joseph. Nikki made a discreet driving motion with an imaginary steering wheel, and it took Vanessa a couple of seconds to realize what she was getting at. Of course, the wheel was on the opposite side of the car—and Armado was driving. Wasn’t fifteen young to have a license, even in Mexico?