by Sandy DeLuca
I want to come home, Aunty.
Wind slammed the door as rain sprayed the windows.
Please take me home.
* * *
There are gale force winds tonight and the window above my bed creaks and moans against its assault. I hear something like glass breaking, and for a moment I see Sammy’s hands reaching through the shattered pane, his fingers curled above my head—holding nails and a hammer—ready to crucify me.
Only a dream, I tell myself.
Or a vision of the future.
I’ve imagined a thousand different fates for Sammy. In some scenarios he’s dead. But in most he is a being of ever-increasing power, a power that will eventually find me and be the ultimate ruination of Julia Benetto. In the latter, he nails me to burning crosses and prays sacrifices to a twisted god while I lay helpless and screaming.
How much blood will stain my hands?
Is there still magic in those hands, Julia?
CHAPTER 44
I gaze at myself in the mirror. The new jeans fit well and the beaded belt I bought compliments my tiny waist. I wear a blouse that my Aunt Lil embroidered in soft pinks and blues, the signs of the Zodiac. There’s supposed to be magic in every stitch. My aunt’s blood is woven within it.
My fake fur coat hangs on the hook and a pair of designer boots lean against the closet door.
The phone rings. My heart pounds and my legs are unsteady as I move to it and answer. “Yes,” I say in response to the voice. “I’m sure I’m ready.”
* * *
“Are you prepared for The Lord?”
A man that looked like Jesus stood on the sidewalk; shoulder length hair, gray-brown beard, and a robe of multi-colored burlap. His gnarled fingers held a Bible.
Some young people had gathered around him as he preached how Nixon would be the one to set off the bomb and how we’d all be blasted to oblivion. It was time to repent, he said.
Three hippie girls sat at his feet with flowers braided in their long hair. The scents of sweat and pot clung to their clothing and they looked as though they hadn’t washed in weeks. Their eyes revealed they were stoned out of their minds. They were stringing brightly colored beads and giggling softly amongst themselves. In front of them were handmade necklaces and bracelets. A sign read: DONATIONS TO THE MIAMI GOSPEL CHURCH.
Two guys stood on the corner, next to the bank. Their Harley was parked nearby. The older of the two was a man in his late twenties. He was good-looking, with light brown hair that hung down his back. His brown eyes were warm and filled with amusement as he watched the crowd gather around the Jesus man.
His companion, a tough-looking blond man, stared straight ahead into the traffic, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. They were both clad in leather pants, vests, and adorned with tattoos.
“Buy our wares and begin to pave your way to Heaven.”
“The world’s filled with nuts.” Sammy glared at the members of the Miami Gospel Church, his hands clenched and that crazy look was on his face. For a moment I was scared he’d murder the preacher and the members of his congregation, but remembered the guns were locked up in the car’s trunk and that Sammy’s knife was in the glove compartment.
“Man, are you ready for Heaven?” the preacher asked Sammy.
“I’m the Devil himself, preacher man,” Sammy growled. “What you think of that?”
“The Devil has many forms—”
“Shut the fuck up, you freak.”
The preacher made the sign of the cross, then reached into his pocket, removed a handful of rose petals and threw them at Sammy. “Bless you, son. May you find the Lord in your heart.”
“I said, fuck you.” Sammy spit on the sidewalk and kicked the rose petals at his feet
The bikers burst out laughing. The older one held his hand out in a high five gesture to Sammy when we’d moved closer to them.
“Too cool, man. I’ve been waiting for somebody to tell that crazy messiah where to go.”
“Lots of freaks in this world,” Sammy said as he eyed the bike. It was metallic blue with dragons painted on it, colorful wings floating through a starry sky. “Nice wheels, man. Some friends of mine back home worked in a Harley shop. I used to go in there and drool over the new bikes when they came.”
“Never had a bike, man?”
“Maybe someday. When things get straight.”
The man hesitated a second, then extended his hand. “Name’s Jericho.” He spoke softly, his voice deep and powerful.
“Sammy.” He shook hands with both men, the second of which introduced himself as Johnny.
“We’ve seen you around town.” Jericho nodded at me.
There was an edge behind those warm eyes, a toughness hardened and honed over time and through experience.
Not sure how Sammy might react, I gave him a noncommittal shrug and thought about Marla the waitress; about her eyes and the story they had told me.
I could tell Sammy felt comfortable with these guys, but I wondered if they’d end up with their throats slashed in a shallow grave somewhere.
“You know where a guy can hang out and have a few beers around here?” Sammy asked.
“I can turn you on to lots of happening places.” Jericho looked at me again. “But only if you introduce us to your lady here.”
Sammy looked surprised, almost as if he’d forgotten I was with him. “Oh. Yeah. This is Julia.”
This time I smiled. Jericho was handsome and I got really good vibes from both him and Johnny. I gave Jericho my hand and he held it a moment. He looked into my eyes again and I looked back. There was magic in his eyes, an uncanny sense of recognition, but he said nothing to me, only nodded.
With a wide smile, Johnny took my hand next, pumping it up and down enthusiastically. “Pleased to meet you, Julia.”
I was about to respond when I was hit with a wave of dizziness that seemed to come out of nowhere. A pain that began as a stinging sensation between my legs quickly became so sharp and violent that I doubled over, and everything started getting dark. It felt like the pavement was moving under my feet and I was suddenly transported somewhere else for a while, sitting with strangers atop a mountain cliff.
When I opened my eyes I had no idea how long I had blacked out for or even where I was for a second. I only knew Jericho had caught me, and that Sammy was just standing there staring at us.
“You could’ve hit your hit on the cement,” Sammy snapped, looking more annoyed than worried. “What the hell came over you?”
Jericho and Johnny looked at me hard, with concern in their eyes. It was a look I’d seen before.
“You okay, honey?” Johnny gently put his hand to my face. “You blacked out, girl.”
“Yeah,” I managed. “I don’t think I’m used to the climate is all.”
“Come on then,” Jericho said. “We’ll get you a cold drink.”
Sammy grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the men. “We got banking business to take care of before we do anything else today.” He took my hand but eyed Jericho and Johnny in a way that let them know who I belonged to, marking his territory like a tomcat pissing on a fence. “There’s a bubbler in the bank, Julia. We’ll meet these guys later.”
“Bubbler?” Johnny laughed. “What the hell’s that?”
“Those little fountains that shoot up water,” Sammy chuckled, but I could tell Johnny’s reaction had annoyed him. “That’s what we call them up North.”
“Cold water sounds like it’ll do the trick,” I said quickly. “I’ll be fine.”
Jericho’s eyes met mine again and something familiar flickered across them once more. It faded and he smiled at me as a bevy of memories washed over me: snuggling close to my aunt, sounds of rain thumping against the window, fading shadows of my childhood dreams…had I dreamed of him once?
“Really,” I said again. “I’m fine.”
“Good enough,” Jericho said evenly.
An angel will save you…
Sammy p
ut his hands on my shoulders. I could feel agitation in his hands, could sense it in the rhythm of his breathing. He bore down on my shoulders as if to steady me, as if he were afraid I’d pass out again. “Now, clue me in on where a guy can go for a good time around here.”
“See that building across the street?” Jericho pointed to it casually. “Where the sign says Dagger’s? When you get done with whatever business you got at the bank come on over and we’ll set you guys up.”
“You got it, man.” Sammy relaxed a bit and dropped his hand to my waist. “Come on babe, we got to see if the money’s in.”
I didn’t want more people hurt and could only hope Sammy would forget about Jericho’s offer. If he didn’t I knew it only meant more death and destruction, more of Sammy’s madness.
I’d seen enough death; enough blood and pain, and I wanted 1971 to end.
I wanted it to be twenty years in the future.
* * *
The time approaches, and I need a fucking fix.
Astaroth—my ragtag soothsayer—waves his ghostly fingers and shows me visions of the past. He forces me to witness deeds I am haunted by, to relive the deaths of those who did not deserve to die.
Sometimes I think I can deal with it, but the shallow graves and blood-soaked scenes are too intense to restrain and simply tuck away. The memories are perpetual. Liquor and illicit drugs can dull the powers of recollection, can weaken the memories but can’t kill them. Nothing can.
I tell myself that days gone by—and the substances I need to get through the present—are just shit that will eventually dissolve. I’ll kick the habits. The gory keepsakes will fade and I’ll be a normal human being.
But I’m fooling myself, as I’ve always done.
All it takes is another dream of the dead—a summons from long ago. All it takes is a lover’s voice speaking in subtle tones as wind chimes sound and the hounds of the damned wail.
It comes down to me—me alone. All of it set in motion by the desires, imaginations and beliefs of a motley crew; a cast of characters linked to me and bound to each other.
I’ve sorted things out bit by bit—things incapable of remaining entombed in the deep chambers of my mind. Over and over I’ve paid my dues to death-masked faces I see before sunrise, in flashes on the highway, in patterns of bloodstains I envision on my hands. In dusky dreams I scrape rot from corpses hidden in southern earth for two decades, sacrifices to a menacing and loveless God, victims of a madman’s delusions.
They say time heals wounds, but mine are so deep they will not stop bleeding and the pain is unbearable. That’s when sweet wine and white powder help to make it tolerable, even if only for a short time. And that’s when I realize I have descended into the abyss and have remained there, hiding in a darkened corner, waiting for the ferryman to take me to my destiny.
I’ve been on the lam for over twenty years. I’ve never stopped running, not really, and the exhaustion is gaining on me, slowing me. My summons has been served.
Why did I believe it would never come? The dead have given me messages in dreams and in fleeting visions for years, and Astaroth has warned me many times as well.
Now I watch as he floats over housetops and into a star-studded sky, knowing all the while that in a moment the phone will ring…and I will be on my way.
CHAPTER 45
We stand on the front lawn. Mrs. Arsenault pulls up the collar on her coat and eyes me with suspicion.
“Where are you going?”
“I have some business.” I hand her keys to the house, give her money for cat food and litter. She puts the money in her pocket, looks to the house and then back to me. “Will you been gone more than a day or two? Is that why you’re giving me the money? I saw a closet filled with cat food and the like before your mother’s accident. Don’t tell me you—”
“It’s just in case anything happens. Maybe I’ll be back tonight, not sure.”
“If I don’t see your car in a few days I’ll check on your mother too.” Her voice is laced with bitterness.
“My own mother is in a nursing home and I’d never dream of—”
“Thank you. My mother will be happy that you’re watching over things.”
“If you’re not back in three days I’m bringing the cats to my place. It’s not right to leave animals alone—”
“Yes, you’re right. Thank you.” I turn and walk away.
* * *
Dagger’s was a pit filled with drifters, hippies and an assortment of society’s other misfits. The place smelled of sweat, stale perfume and greasy food and was decorated with gaudy neon lights. Photographs of naked women and race cars filled the walls, and a platinum-haired girl who looked far too young to even be in there—fifteen or sixteen at most—danced topless on the bar. Her silver stiletto heels clicked on Formica as men stuffed dollar bills inside her bikini panty.
I noticed a crucifix nailed to a door behind the bar. The bartender was a massive man with long blond hair and a beard. He wore a shirt with an airbrushed angel on it and looked disapprovingly at Sammy as we passed by. There was a knock at the door behind the bar. The bartender disappeared behind it. Smoke spiraled where he’d stood. Something scraped against the door and a strange growling seemed to be coming from that direction.
I saw Jericho and Johnny sitting at a table at the rear of the club. Waitresses dressed in hot pants and halter tops paraded back and forth carrying trays of drinks and burgers.
Jericho stood up and waved us over, he’d seen us too.
Johnny smiled and tapped his feet to jukebox music: The Doors LA Woman.
“Julia, how you feeling, girl? Sit down.” Jericho said. He slid a fresh glass of Coke over to me.
“Brittany,” he yelled to a petite, blonde waitress passing by, “bring us more of the same, sweetie, and some of those fried chicken wings too. The basket’s almost empty.” He finally acknowledged Sammy with a smile. “Sammy, what’ll it be, man?”
“Scotch on the rocks,” Sammy said to another waitress who was now at the table, a pretty brunette with light blue eyes and an amazing figure.
It was obvious Jericho and Johnny had been here a lot. People knew them and seemed to like them. Several biker types came by and patted Jericho on the back as they passed by. Many of them donned tattoos of crosses and angels.
“Where did you guys say you were from again?” Jericho picked up a chicken wing and bit into it with gusto.
“Rhode Island. We drove down here straight through, just made a few itty bitty stops along the way.” A dark glint twinkled in Sammy’s eyes.
“I’ve been up to New York City on occasion. I spent some time in Philly too. The winters are tough up that way.”
“Yeah, man, that’s why we moved down here.”
“You’re awful quiet, Julia,” Johnny said. “You feeling better now?”
I nodded. Jericho looked at me and then at Sammy. A skinny redheaded girl walked by and pinched Johnny’s cheek. He laughed. “Hey, Abbie. Have a drink with me later.”
She smiled, showing deep dimples. “Meet you back here at six. I gotta pick up my kid.” She left behind a scent of incense and roses.
When she was out of earshot he said to Jericho, “That girl’s got my heart.”
“She’s a good lady,” Jericho gave him an approving wink then turned to me again. “You still look pale, girl. You sure you’re OK? You want a sandwich or a slice of pizza or something? Everything’s good here.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “It’s just the heat. I’m not used to it.” The truth of the matter was, I still felt weak and sick, and my inner thighs were raw and bruised and still hurt like hell. “The drink’s fine, thanks.”
Ignoring the concern the men had for me, Sammy said, “I’ll have some of that pizza in a while. Got to get some alcohol in me first, though.”
“What do you do for work?” Jericho asked Sammy.
“Little of this, little of that. I was in jewelry back north. Worked as a bouncer at some loc
al clubs too. I’m a trained boxer.” He looked at Jericho with a subtle look that seemed to be something of a friendly warning. Sammy flexing his muscles again. “Now that we’re here and almost settled, I’ll be getting back into my serious training again soon. Got to stay sharp, right?”
Jericho seemed respectful but thoroughly unimpressed. “If you need some steady work to get yourself settled, I know a guy who owns a construction company next county over. The work’s hard, but if you can pour cement, use a hammer, and don’t mind breaking your back, I can get you in.”
I thought of Star, and how Sammy had used the hammer on her.
“Sounds good, but I need a bit more time to get some shit together before I commit to something like that. We got money to live on for now, no need to rush off to work just yet.”
”Well, when you’re ready you can always find me here.”
“Sure thing, man.” He leaned close to Jericho. “So tell me, if a guy wants to get high around here, where would he go to score? I still got a stash I brought down with me from home, but I’m running low, know what I mean? Who’s the man to see around here?”
“You’re looking at him.” Jericho smiled wide.
“Yeah, he’s the man.” Johnny held out his glass in a toast. “Scores the best dope in Miami.”
While they talked I kept watching Jericho without trying to be too obvious. Every now and then he’d peek at me while he was talking to Sammy, his eyes gliding over to me just long enough to catch me.
Maybe he could be the friend I’d been craving, the one in whom I could confide.
But Sammy could destroy it all in the beat of a heart. It was his nature, destruction, and even among his close friends, he couldn’t seem to turn it off. I thought about Bob Stanni—Sammy’s best friend—and revisited my fears that Sammy had done something horrible to him before we’d hit the road. Sammy couldn’t be trusted with anyone’s life. Not men who could score drugs, or turn him on to a good time—not even the girl he’d driven through Hell with.