by Eli Easton
It was awkwardly phrased, and Alejandro seemed too embarrassed to look him in the eye as he climbed onto the bed. It wasn’t something either of them would have been brave enough to say normally—they were too prone to teasing each other. Matthew couldn’t even acknowledge the suggestion in words. He turned off the desk lamp, plunging the room into near darkness except for the faint light coming in the through the window blinds. Then he stepped out of the shorts he’d borrowed and slid under the sheet.
The moment Alejandro’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, he felt as if he’d been so, so thirsty… dying of thirst… and Alejandro’s embrace was pure, cool water, the only thing that could quench it. But he would only have a few hours to drink his fill.
When Alejandro kissed him gently on the back of the neck, Matthew felt a flood of warmth spread from the spot to fill his entire body. “I’ll make it better,” his friend whispered. “I promise.”
Chapter Six
ALEJANDRO WASN’T sure if he slept or not. Maybe he did, because it seemed like Matthew had only just settled into his arms when the alarm clock went off. Matthew moaned softly in protest, and Alejandro quickly reached across him to silence the alarm. He was still stretched out half on top when Matthew snickered. “What?”
“Somebody has a boner.”
It was true. Alejandro realized he’d been mashing it into Matthew’s hip. He quickly rolled away. “Shut up. You probably do too.”
Matthew didn’t confirm the accusation… but he didn’t deny it either. Instead, he turned red and glanced away. “Is Abuela still here?”
Alejandro forced his mind away from thoughts of Matthew’s hard-on and glanced at the clock. It was just past nine. “She should be at the botanica by now.”
Matthew slipped out of the bed, muttering something about needing to piss, and quickly left the room. Alejandro couldn’t help but notice that he made sure to keep his front hidden while he did so. A short time later, he could hear his friend taking a leak in the bathroom.
Frustrated, Alejandro got up and dressed, thankful Matthew wasn’t there to see how much his boxers were jutting out in front of him. It wasn’t the first time they’d awoken with morning hard-ons and teased each other about it, but it was the first time they’d cuddled the night before. Everything felt different now—weird.
Did I actually kiss him? It wasn’t that he minded the thought. Not at all. But…. Christ, where had he gotten the courage to do that?
By the time Matthew came back into the room, Alejandro was deflated enough to pretend there hadn’t been any sexual overtones to sharing the bed. After all, it wasn’t like anyone had done any groping in the night. It had just been one friend consoling another.
Yeah, that’s all.
At any rate, they had more important things to worry about. “Get dressed,” Alejandro said. He didn’t bother suggesting Matthew borrow his clothes, because of course he would. “Then I have something I want you to do before we go over there.”
The “something” was totally revolting, and he knew Matthew would give him shit over it.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Matthew said, his face screwed up in disgust as Alejandro held out the raw meat from the fridge. It had been thawing in there last night. Alejandro had been happy to find it just before they went to sleep. But he had no idea how he’d explain to Abuela where a big chunk of it had gone.
“It’s a very old spell,” Alejandro explained again. “It will turn a dog away from its master and make him loyal to you.”
“I am his master!”
“Not at the moment.”
“Raw meat,” Matthew said. “In my armpit.”
“You have to hold it there for an hour.”
“While it drips blood down my side. What the fuck, Alejandro? We don’t have time for this!”
Alejandro shrugged. “I’m going to talk to the neighbors and try to convince them to ignore any noises coming from your apartment. Spartacus still has a crate in the living room, right?”
“Yeah. We never use it anymore, but it’s there.”
“Then we need to try to throw the meat into it so we can lock him up.”
MATTHEW STOOD outside his apartment building as the morning grew hotter, feeling the squishy, raw steak slipping around under his armpit every time he moved. He cursed my dog, and now he’s making me do this. Why haven’t I killed him yet?
Matthew was shirtless, thank God. Wearing a shirt would have just made it worse. Alejandro had tucked a plastic grocery bag into the waistband of the shorts he was wearing—Alejandro’s shorts, since there had seemed little point in putting on something clean—and although that kept some of the blood off the outside of the shorts, it caused it to pool in places along the waistband and dribble down the inside. The whole experience was beyond disgusting.
He thought back to Alejandro spooning him the night before. If he hadn’t been falling apart, it might have been one of the best moments of his life. He’d fantasized about Alejandro holding him like that more times than he could remember. Though in his fantasies, the cuddling had just been the beginning, moving on to kissing and caressing and hot man-on-man action. But things would probably go back to normal when this was over—hopefully with Spartacus safely restored to his old self—back to just being good friends, horsing around, teasing each other. Caring about each other, but not… loving each other.
While he was wallowing in these dismal thoughts, Alejandro came out the front door of the building. “I’ve talked to everyone. I told them to stay inside until I give the all clear. I don’t want one of their kids opening their apartment door and getting mauled by Spartacus if he gets out. And it sounds to me like he’s still pacing back and forth in the living room. I listened at the door for a minute, and he growled at me.”
“Terrific,” Matthew muttered.
“I also called Abuelita to let her know I got back last night. But I told her I need to help you with something this morning.” Alejandro checked his cell phone for the time. “We’ll go in, in about fifteen minutes. Stay here a minute—I have to get dressed.”
Matthew wasn’t sure what he meant by that, since he was already wearing a T-shirt, pants, and sneakers, which was more than Matthew had on. But he waited while Alejandro went back into his apartment. A few minutes later, he returned in the most ridiculous getup Matthew could have imagined. Despite the fact that it was almost eighty degrees, Alejandro had put on his leather jacket and leather gloves. Most absurdly, he was wearing the hockey mask he’d worn in high school when he was on the team for a while. Matthew had to laugh. “How the hell can you breathe in that thing?”
“I’m dying,” Alejandro admitted. He lifted the mask up to gasp in some air. “Jesus! We’ve gotta get this done fast or I’ll pass out. Here’s the plan. Do you have your key handy?”
“The apartment isn’t locked,” Matthew said. “There wasn’t time to grab my pants, and that’s where my keys are.” He hadn’t wanted to lock himself out.
Alejandro nodded. “All right. Fine. I’ll throw open the door and rush in first. I’m gonna try to grab Spartacus by the collar. Once I’ve got him restrained, I need you to run to his crate and toss that delicious, underarm-sweat-soaked meat inside. Then get the fuck out of the room before he takes a bite out of your ass.”
“And go where, exactly?”
“I don’t know. Lock yourself in the bathroom if you have to. Once I get the crate closed, you can come back into the room.”
It didn’t sound like a brilliant plan, but Matthew didn’t have a better one, so he agreed to it. By the time they’d gone into the building and climbed the stairs to the apartment, Alejandro’s jet-black hair was plastered to his face and dripping rivulets of sweat. He slipped the mask into place as he crept up to the door. They were afraid of alerting Spartacus, so Alejandro counted down silently with his fingers: three… two… one….
He burst into the apartment, and almost immediately Spartacus was upon him, barking ferociously. Then Ale
jandro cried out in pain. From his place on the landing, Matthew couldn’t see clearly, but it looked as if the pit bull had sunk his teeth into Alejandro’s arm. Matthew wondered fearfully whether the leather was tough enough to prevent the dog from ripping an enormous chunk of flesh out of his friend’s forearm.
Then Alejandro shouted, “Matthew! Now!”
Matthew ran into the apartment and slammed the door behind him. Alejandro had Spartacus by the collar as he’d planned, holding it tightly in his left hand, but the dog hadn’t released his death grip on his right arm. Blood was dripping out the end of the jacket sleeve.
Fuck!
The living room couch was still kitty-corner to the room, one end pressed up against Matthew’s bedroom door. The door, surprisingly enough, wasn’t smashed through, but Spartacus had apparently broken the latch and shoved the couch back far enough to make his escape. Matthew ran around the other end of the couch to where the dog’s crate lay open in the far corner of the living room, but when he moved to toss the meat into it, he glanced back and realized Spartacus wasn’t paying any attention to him at all. He was holding fast on to Alejandro’s arm, despite the boy trying to pull him off. Alejandro was managing not to scream, but he was grunting in obvious pain and swearing in a steady stream of Spanish.
“Spartacus!” Matthew tried waving the piece of meat in the air, but the dog didn’t pay any attention.
This was a stupid plan!
Matthew scrambled over the top of the couch until he was close enough to shove the meat directly in front of the dog’s nose. “Come on, you dumb dog! It’s meat!”
“Matthew! Get away—”
Spartacus released Alejandro’s arm and lunged for the chunk of steak faster than Matthew was prepared for. He came close to losing a finger as the pit bull sank his teeth into the meat.
“Fuck me!” Matthew had just enough presence of mind to keep a hold of his end of the steak. It tore in two, and Spartacus wolfed down his chunk in a single gulp. Then he lunged for the other half, still in Matthew’s hand.
If he’d thought for two seconds, Matthew would have jumped back over the couch—it was the shortest route to the crate and might have slowed Spartacus down, since the dog was relatively short and squat. But he didn’t think. He ran. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he saw a flash of an old silent movie where people were running at high speed with silly piano music playing, as he scrambled around the far end of the couch and looped around the coffee table before he remembered where he was supposed to be going. In one motion, he tossed the scrap of raw meat into the crate and jumped up on top of the thing.
He wasn’t exactly safe there. It was strong, but nothing more than a wire mesh. His fingers and toes were sticking down into the crate, where Spartacus could easily bite them. But the dog took a minute to pounce on the meat and scarf it down. In that tiny interval, Matthew jumped down to close the door and throw the bolt.
Spartacus was trapped.
He didn’t like it. The dog threw himself against the crate, but it was strong enough to hold him. While he clawed at it and snarled, Matthew scrambled out of reach. He turned back to Alejandro, who was still standing near the door, clutching his arm.
“I’m sorry,” Alejandro said. “I was supposed to do that.”
And then he collapsed.
Chapter Seven
ALEJANDRO WOKE to find himself lying on the floor with a pillow under his head and all his clothing gone. Well, he figured out after a second that his boxers were still on. But otherwise, he was naked. Matthew was wiping his chest and stomach down with a cool, damp washcloth.
“Um… where are my clothes?”
“In the bathtub,” Matthew replied, looking a bit embarrassed. “They were all covered in blood.”
“You had to take my pants off too?”
Matthew turned red, which Alejandro thought was adorable. “You bled all down your leg. Besides, you were sweating like a pig. I was afraid you’d get heatstroke or something, all bundled up like that in this weather. So I thought it was a good idea to cool you off.”
Truthfully, Alejandro was incredibly relieved to be out of the leather jacket, gloves, and hockey mask. The rest… well, who was he to complain if Matthew wanted to undress him? “Did you at least have your way with me?” he asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid.”
Matthew snorted. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. Unless you had a really good time in New Orleans, I know you’ve never gotten laid—ever.”
“Jose Garcia gave me a blowjob.”
“I know. I was there, and he gave me a blowjob too. But that’s not the same as getting laid.”
Alejandro didn’t argue. If he did, he might have to admit that Jose had come on to him a few days later, offering a lot more than just a blowjob. And Alejandro had turned him down, because he hadn’t wanted his first time to be with someone he didn’t feel anything for.
He’d wanted it to be with Matthew.
“Your arm is all chewed to shit,” Matthew said, frowning. “I’ve been waiting to see if you turned into some kind of were-pit bull or something.”
Alejandro rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.”
“I see,” Matthew said, frowning at him. “Possession by evil spirits is totally realistic, but were-animals are silly. Got it.”
“Fuck you, huero. I don’t have the energy to argue. And my arm hurts.”
Matthew didn’t bother responding to the “fuck you” part—they said that to each other all the time, anyway—but he looked concerned about the rest of it. “We should probably get you to a doctor.”
Alejandro lifted his arm to look at it, but Matthew had cleaned it and wrapped his entire forearm in bandaging. He couldn’t see how bad the damage was. It was throbbing painfully, but not nearly as bad as it had felt when Spartacus had his teeth embedded in it. “Later. We have to do what we came to do.” If he did go to a doctor, he’d have to lie about some “strange dog” biting him. If he mentioned Spartacus, someone might insist the dog be put down, regardless.
Alejandro struggled to sit up and Matthew helped him. For the first time, he noticed Matthew had cleaned the blood off himself and changed into some fresh shorts. “How is he?”
“He’s gone kind of quiet,” Matthew said, glancing in the general direction of the dog crate. They couldn’t actually see it from down here on the floor because the couch was in the way. “But he’s sure as hell not back to normal.”
“Get the bag of stuff from the hall,” Alejandro said. “Then we’ll cleanse the apartment.”
THE APARTMENT would have needed cleansing even if there hadn’t been an evil spirit in it. Spartacus had crapped on the floor in a couple of spots and urinated God knew where. He’d also managed to get under the sink and drag the garbage out onto the floor. In eighty-degree weather, it wasn’t surprising that the place reeked.
Matthew scooped up the poop with paper towels and flushed it down the toilet, while Alejandro did his best to clean up the garbage in the kitchen. Although he wasn’t complaining, he was deathly slow at it, and Matthew could tell he was in a lot of pain. Matthew did most of the cleaning and then left his friend to fill the mop bucket with water and one of the cleansing washes from the botanica. He went around the apartment with a small black light that illuminated urine spots. He’d bought it when Spartacus was a puppy. He hadn’t had to use it in a while, but he found a few spots now on the floor and furniture and cleaned them with an enzyme spray specifically designed for animal urine. Apparently, evil spirits weren’t house-trained.
Matthew was having a hard time keeping it together. Every time he allowed himself to glance at the dog crate, he was shocked at how little the animal inside resembled his sweet puppy. Spartacus panted and watched him intently—perhaps suspiciously—with eyes that seemed glazed over, ears flattened against his head, drool mixed with blood from the raw steak hanging in ropes from his mouth….
Matthew focused on cleaning and prayed the washes and sprays
Alejandro had brought would somehow bring Spartacus back from wherever he was.
The floor of the apartment was wood in all the rooms, including the living room, which made things a little easier. The wash had to be mixed with water and then used to mop the floor throughout the entire apartment. Since Alejandro couldn’t do that effectively one-handed, Matthew did it. Alejandro opened a window and sprayed the place with Eleggua spray.
Eleggua spray was exactly what it sounded like—a spray to encourage the spirit Eleggua to manifest himself and chase away evil. The first time Matthew had seen that, and aerosols dedicated to other spirits, on the shelves of the botanica, he’d been flabbergasted. Spirit summoning in a can? The idea seemed beyond laughable. But Abuela had glared at him, and Alejandro had explained that it wasn’t all that different from lighting incense at the beginning of a religious ritual. This particular scent—which frankly smelled a bit like Florida Water to Matthew, but sharper, more masculine—was pleasing to Eleggua, so the spirit was more likely to make his presence known where it had been sprayed.
Matthew still wasn’t sure how much he believed, but he knew Abuela took these things very seriously, and her grandson… well, he suspected Alejandro took it more seriously than he let on. He might act dismissive of it when he was just talking to Matthew, but deep down he believed in it. And right now, if it would get Spartacus back, Matthew wanted to believe in it too.
While he sprayed the apartment, Alejandro was muttering under his breath in Spanish. Matthew couldn’t hear him clearly, but he was pretty sure it was a prayer to Eleggua or his Santeria equivalent, St. Anthony. Between the wash and the spray, it was getting hard to breathe in there, open window or not.
When Matthew had finished mopping, Alejandro approached him and dabbed some Florida Water on his neck and the middle of his forehead. Then he handed him a small plastic bottle of clear liquid. “Splash this on Spartacus.”
