The Jackal's Kiss

Chapter Two: Abduction

It was almost five before I saw my apartment again. I had passed by the Caballero’s closed door, which stood dark and formidable. It was too easy pass by without a second glance. The idea of Emanuel’s enraged face was intimidating, and what had happened to Mrs. Caballero? It couldn’t really have been my fault…could it? I closed my eyes and pushed those thoughts away. How did I know what was real? None of what had happened today seemed possible.

I paused at the stairwell door, but opened it fast, like ripping off a band-aid. There was nothing but the orange glow and the faint smell of incense. I didn’t even bother to hold my breath; I just raced up the steps, the laundry bag was full of clean clothes this time, banging against my legs. I fell twice, but kept going, ready for the comfort of my own home. When I reached the top, someone was sitting outside of my door.

“What are you doing?”

The figure turned slightly, and I tensed. It was Emanuel, pale faced and narrow eyed. He stood up and faced me.

“My mother made me come here, for you,” he said after a minute. The words sounded forced.

“Listen, I don’t know what you guys are into, but I don’t want any,” I said, waving my hands. “I don’ know what happened today—“ Emanuel opened his mouth as if to interrupt me, but I continued on, not giving him the chance to explain. “And I don’t want to know. So I’ll go my way, and you’ll go yours.”

“It’s not that simple,” he shook his head as he said it, denying the words outright.

“It is. Look, I’m really sorry about your mom, but I didn’t have anything to do with her seizure. People can’t do that kind of thing, okay?”

“How can you deny it?” he asked, angrily glaring at me. “Don’t you have more than enough proof?”

I forced a laugh. “Proof of what? You’re just overly superstitious.”

“What about your dreams—no, nightmares? We hear you scream sometimes, your apartment is right above ours.”

“Every one has those,” I shrugged, wanting him to move, for this conversation to be over.

“Not every day.”

I got angry. At them for listening to me sleeping, knowing things that I couldn’t remember, and at myself for wanting believe there was a reason for my fear. But there wasn’t. I had an overactive imagination. That was it. Problem solved.

“You want to know why I scream? Well, so do I. I can’t remember my dreams or my own freaking name. And I don’t believe in curses or evil eyes—so I want you to leave me alone!” I blinked and he stayed motionless. Nothing in his face had changed during my outburst.

For some reason, Emanuel had an impossible sense of age. As if he had seen a thousand years of suffering and I was just another mark on the wall.

“You are stupid,” he finally said. “Denying it will only make it worse.” He came toward me, and I braced myself for…something. Emanuel thrust a bag into my hands. “My mother made this for you. Heat the paste up and put it on our knee. It will take the swelling down. And…wear the anise, the dried flower. It will keep evil from you.”

He looked at me for another minute, as if he could burn the instructions into my brain and force me to obey. Abruptly, he turned away and disappeared down the stairs.
Right, another step up on the weird scale, but even though I was thinking that, a little stab of worry sat in my chest. Ghosts, Mexican witch doctors, and curses, oh my! I shook my head. I had to be unbalanced if I thought any of that was real.

Inside my apartment, I dropped the brown bag Emanuel had handed me on the table and tossed the laundry into the bedroom. For the first time that day, I realized I was hungry.
After I ate dinner, I had nothing to do for an hour. Dutifully, I made myself put away the clothes I had just washed and pulled out what I would wear to work. Then, I headed back into the main room.

My little couch sank with a sigh as I sat down casually flipped through the channels. There were only three. I settled for the news, because it had the least amount of static. The anchorman was a handsome-enough kind of guy, but his hair was just a little too-perfect. Nobody light a match. I was laughing at my own joke when he said, “And in a few minutes, the follow-up to that grisly murder down at the bay.”

I leaned forward as they ran through the weather and a story about a cat that survived a four-story fall. Impatiently, I waited, ready for more news on the body that had been found a few weeks earlier, not too far from my work. Of course, it had been found on the dayshift, and I hadn’t actually seen it. Ned had gone down and gawked with the others behind the yellow police tape. He had recorded the story because they had interviewed him. He only said two sentences, but he acted like he was starring in a Hollywood box office hit.

“Hello, and thank you for watching the News at Six, with…”I sat a little straighter and turned the volume up. “Tonight’s top story is the gruesome murder of an unknown victim. It was found late Saturday morning on October 3rd, where News Channel 4 had the exclusive. Tonight, new leads have been released in what had been a closed case. Reporting to you from…”
New leads? Murder? The last time the news had reported, a dog had mauled the man. Nobody had cared much because he had been a vagrant. I shook my head in confusion as a second reporter appeared on an inset screen.

“This is the dismal scene where the victim, later identified as John Harding, was brutally ripped apart, and Adam, and I have to say, it’s not hard to imagine why no one could hear him scream. There is nothing but water and swamp in this area. About half a mile away you can find a gas station and a few warehouses, but here, there is nothing—”

“So Angela, we can see that there is a lot of activity behind you. Why are the police re-opening the case?” the anchorman asked, interrupting the feed.

“I’ve just learned from an inside source that the body was exhumed from the grave after an anonymous tip. It seems that besides the numerous canine bite marks, but there were also other markings, as well, some even made by human fingernails. This new information turns this tragic scene into something even more horrific. Adam…”

“Thank you, Angela…”

What that was it? No suspects? I turned the television off and glanced outside at the gathering dark. I had been so close to a murder scene—a disgusting, grisly murder scene that looked like something from a horror movie.

Don’t think about it! my fear cried in a small voice. Okay. I’d just get ready.

As I turned towards the bedroom, my eyes caught on the brown bag, sitting so innocently on my breakfast table.

“I should just throw it away,” I said to myself. I walked over, curiosity peeking from behind my pride. Maybe just a quick look.

I opened the top, and a strong earthy smell wafted up. I had to turn away with a sneeze. I pulled out a zip-lock bag filled with the same paste Mrs. Caballero had been making earlier. This was supposed to help my knee? I glanced down, and pulled up the leg of my cut-offs. It was still swollen, and turning an ugly shade of purple. Gross. Still, the stuff in the bag looked even more disgusting. There was only one other thing, a small cloth bag that smelled like weeds. It made me sneeze over and over again. Everything went in the trashcan below the sink.

In the bathroom I washed my face again, put on lotion, and then pulled down the make-up case. It was only the samples that my next-door-neighbor, Ms. What’s-her-face passed off on everyone, but I didn’t pass-up free stuff. Most of the time.

I never bothered with foundation because I was so pale, anything looked fake, and I didn’t have that many blemishes to worry about. Just a little eye shadow, and liner…yes, I liked it. The faintly purple shadow made my emphasized my pale blue eyes and the smoky liner really made them pop. Then just a touch of lip-gloss, tinted rose. I smiled at my reflection.

“Hello, nice to meet you Mr.—Mr. …” oh shit! I didn’t even know the boss’s name! Maybe I could overhear it, or ask before he got there. My heart was hammering at the thought of being unprepared. My presence was only tolerated because I did a good job…but if I didn’t know his name…

No, hold it. You’re only the night secretary. Why would he want to meet you? … But why pull me in on my day off if he did not want to meet me?

I plugged in the curling iron with a frantic motion and flew to put on the black pantsuit I had pulled out. I’d gotten it at the Good Will with the tags still on it. The pants were a little long, but when I put on my best heels, they draped gracefully down my legs, just brushing the carpet. The blouse was a frosty blue; the pattern reminded me of ice trailing across a window on a cold day. Then the jacket—the front was a little roomy. It had been made for someone with a bigger bust than my childish frame…but hey, beggars (literally) cannot be choosers.

When I rushed back into the bathroom, it was to hastily wrap a few simple curls into my tresses and then I was rushing out the door. As my stiletto hit the first un-carpeted step, my knee gave a sharp pain-filled cry, and I nearly stumbled. I cursed under my breath, but there was no time now, I’d just have to grin and bear it.

I passed down the hall; the stairs and lobby so fast that I did not have time to be scared, even though the night was closing in like a fist. Normally, I was into work before the sun had set and out well after it had risen. But, the winter months were coming and I supposed I would have to gather what little courage I had…and speed like a demon. I took a deep breath, and was glad for the full moon, which was almost bright enough to read by. It illuminated my way to the car so that my heart was only pounding slightly before I started the engine.

The drive was uneventful, even though my road-rage got full exercise. Some people just did not deserve to drive.

When I pulled into the gravel parking lot, I had five minutes before I was supposed to be meeting the chief. I clambered out very ungracefully and ran-walked up to the side door.

“Late, Marie?” Ned smiled as he puffed casually on his cigarette. Its end glowed brightly in the dark, illuminating his broad, toad-like face. His pores reflected oily and I felt a nostril twitch in disgust.

“What are you so happy about?” I said, pausing with my hand on the doorknob. Ned only grinned and took another deep drag as he watched me. Something squirmed in the pit of my stomach. It was the same sick feeling I had gotten before descending the stairs. I blinked hard, staring at my white hand on the rusted steel, but I could not make it turn.

I was aware of Ned’s intent gaze, like a small boy with a magnifying glass and an anthill. This feeling had never lied to me before…bad things always happened. There was something bad on the other side of this door. “What’s the matter, Marie?” Ned asked, and I could hear the sneer in his words. “You look like a deer in headlights…hehe, pardon the cliché.”

I forced myself to look at Ned and the sick feeling swam up to my breastbone, wriggling like an eel caught in a net. The floodlight flickered with a faint buzz. The feeling never lied.

“You never answered me,” I said, voice hollow. “What are you so happy about, Edward Crowes?”

There was only silence as he glared at me in the semi-darkness. Was he shocked that I knew his given name? I was.

“What did you do?”

Ned spat and flicked his cigarette nub into the parking lot. “You better hurry inside, Marie. You really don’t want to be late.”

I continued to look at him for a minute before I turned the knob. It was still cold, never having warmed up to my body’s heat. Was it a bad sign? I should have taken it as one.

I only took one step into the wonderfully bright interior, before there was a loud clack! and I was plunged into darkness. There was time for a single gasp before I felt the door jerked away from my grip and Ned growled, “Goodbye, Marie.”

The door slammed loudly, and I was alone in the darkness. Complete darkness that felt touchable. For a moment, I stood there, panicked and frozen. Then, I blinked. Was that a sound? The quiet step of soft sole on smooth concrete? I fought not to swallow too loudly, but my throat and mouth were now bone dry.

Was this some kind of joke? If it was, it wasn’t a funny one. I was completely terrified. I wanted to turn around and bang on the door, rattle it. But that would break the rules. Don’t make a sound.

Had I heard the lock? Was it locked? Very slowly, silently, I slipped off my heels so that they wouldn’t clack. I tried to not even breath. My lungs burned with the need for air, but I only let in the softest, shallowest breaths. I edged one foot back; maybe an inch, and my ears were straining for even the slightest sound. Another inch. There was no sound…but I was not alone. I could feel it—

“Where are you going?” the chuckle was as loud as thunder in the static black. It was right behind me. I froze; not even my heart beat for that instant. My nerves were on hyper-alert so that when I was grabbed, it sent jolts of electricity down my petrified spine. A strangled, half scream escaped me, before I silenced it.

My heart was now hammering so fast I could hardly hear around the blood rushing in my ears. Through the confusion of adrenaline, my jittery mind barely made out that someone was crushing me in his arms, my back pressing into a lean chest. Hard ribs pressed sharply against my shoulder blades and an arm constricted against my diaphragm. I couldn’t take a breath.

Hot breath scalded against my ear as fingers twisted viciously in my hair. Pain made tears squeeze from the corners of my eyes. That voice was like sizzling coals, so different from the soft brush of lips on my ear. That light touch made the words even crueler.

“Not even a scream for me? Has someone already broken my new toy?” More tears fell. I wanted to sob and scream, but I couldn’t get enough air to even breathe. “No fair. I’ll have to teach you different…won’t I?”

With another vicious tug at my hair, he pulled my head to the side. There was pain, so much pain it was hard to distinguish where it began and where it ended. I was only aware, at some point when I knew I was going to pass out or die, that I had finally found the monster of my nightmares.