by Calinda B
“I wish I knew where I was going.” She sat down on her bed, the Doberman next to her. Her hand stroked his head as she mused about the night.
Tom had come back in the kitchen in a sullen mood, slamming the door behind him. He and Daniel had gone into another room and conferred, while she was left with a razor sharp cleaver, a dead rabbit, and a few instructions. It had taken several attempts, but finally she’d chopped off the head and paws, and Tom was right - once the head and feet were gone and placed out of eyesight, there were only bloody remains of foodstuff, just like buying a packet of chicken at the supermarket – except for the fur.
Her hands encased in latex, she’d peeled off the skin and downy pelt, pierced the belly with a boning knife, found the tiny green pustule of bile all by herself, removed the guts, and even felt good about her accomplishment. The rabbit meat was simmering in the pot, and she was wiping down the counter with disinfectant when the men returned.
“Mmm, this smells delicious,” Daniel had said, wrapping his arms around her.
The PDA in front of Tom made her squirm. She gently extracted herself from his embrace. “You made the sauce. What did you say you put in it again?”
“Olive oil, garlic, onion, rosemary, thyme, carrots, dried poblano ‘ancho’ peppers, and Cabernet Sauvignon. Are you taking notes?”
“No. I just wondered,” she’d said shyly.
Tom had muttered, “Daniel’s a good cook. And thanks for wiping everything down.”
That had been his version of a compliment. At least his mood had shifted after that.
“Pass me another roll, Ms. Em.” After she’d complied, he’d said, “I’m taking you on a trip tomorrow. We’ve got to start with the basics. Begin at the beginning. There’s no time to waste in your training.”
“I have to work.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I work until five.”
“Don’t worry, Daniel and I have got you covered.”
“Covered how?”
“Just don’t worry about it.”
She’d groaned. “I need that job. I can’t afford to lose it.”
“I said, don’t worry about it – we’ve got you covered. You can’t afford to lose your life is what you can’t afford. Give El Demonio all that power? No, sir.”
“So that’s all you care about - the demented sorcerer not getting my powers?”
“She’s sure sensitive,” Tom had commented to Daniel.
“Do I get to find out anything about where we’re going and why?”
“Nope,” Tom said, munching his bread.
After that, he’d changed the topic and nothing more had been said. When she’d left, all he’d said to her was, “See you tomorrow.” No time of departure, no what to wear, bring this, bring that – even Daniel had been mum on the drive home repeating their mantra of “We’ve got you covered.”
“I’ll show them. I’ll have my bag all packed.” She dragged her overnight case out of the closet and pulled a few things out of the drawer. Pants, panties, tops, and socks all found their way into her small suitcase. She set the travel bag next to the doorway, donned her PJs, and sighed. “I’m a murderer.” She pulled back the covers, slipped inside of the cozy embrace of bedding and turned out the lights. The last thought she had before drifting to sleep was of Daniel. She swore she could feel him next to her, stroking her hair, planting soft, feathery little kisses on her cheeks as she fell into the land of repose.
Minutes after Marissa drifted to sleep, she catapulted into a dark, chaotic dreamscape. She stood in the chaos, clutching a paintbrush, flinging dripping red, yellows, and black colors against the backdrop, her movements chaotic, sudden, and explosive. She reached up her arms and drew fluttering images of blood-stained rags, bloody animal parts, and soaring predators. I’m mad now. I’m completely mad.
She sailed over Daniel’s house where the bronze goddesses laughed hysterically, hands clasped with one another, whirling in the mad circles of the deranged.
A face leered at her through the madness. Her dream skin prickled from head to toe. There was no mistaking – she was in the presence of pure evil, as Tom had said. His smooth, tanned hands reached for her. She marveled at the manicured fingernails and the large, gold, elaborate ring before she deftly sliced them from the limbs. When the hands thumped to the ground she gasped. “I did that! I’m the one holding the sword!” Aghast, she flung the blade away.
She instantly torpedoed into a gory scene where she huddled in a desolate, dreary, dripping cemetery, hunched over fallen forms. Rain heaved from the sky, vomited from the clouds. This is the stuff of nightmares, she thought. This is the stuff of Le Mort, the card Crazy Betty flipped for me. She placed her hands on her hips and examined her wet, gloom-filled surroundings. This is what my life felt like after my parents died. She wore black boots, black jeans, a black coat, and a black turtleneck. The turtleneck had a lightning bolt slashed down the entire front or the garment. The edges of the lightning bolt were hues and shades of color, bridging the space between light and dark.
She gingerly kicked at one of the forms with her boot. The gown-clad body rolled onto its back. The face was missing, replaced by one of those pixelated blurs like they did on TV when the person did not want to be on camera. Mom? She poked at another dead body, dressed in a dark suit, and noted the same. Dad? Pixelated faces? She flicked her eyes about and noted that the knife she had flung lay just out of reach.
“Pick it up,” a male voice said to her.
Her eyes flipped right and left.
“Pick up the damn knife, or I’ll use it to gut you and your rabbit insides.”
Crap. It’s Tom. “Is this your idea of a little trip? Is this what you had in mind when you said we’d be going somewhere today?”
Ignoring her question, he said, “Pick it up.”
“I don’t want to pick it up. This place sucks.”
“Pick up the damn knife.”
She reached over and grasped it, feeling the solid carved wooden blade. I know this knife. This knife is mine. This was what I’m supposed to use to carve away chaos. That statement lurched up out of her head, like an edict. Carve away chaos? None of this was making any sense. “Now that?”
“Do what needs to be done. Only that. Do what needs to be done.”
She cast her eyes about, searching for…for…for what, exactly? Her gaze landed on one of the corpses. It was the body of a woman. Although it wasn’t apparent, she was a beautiful woman, or she had been. Now, she sported the face of a rabbit. Marissa chuckled. Scaredy cat. More like scaredy rabbit. She strode over and chopped off the head, the hands and the feet. She gutted the insides with efficiency. When she was done, she asked, “Now what?”
“You gutted the wrong one, Ms. Em. That could be a problem.”
She stared at Tom. Stared at the knife. Stared at the headless form. Pitched the knife into the mud-soaked night.
“Now what? You threw away your tool. What will you use as a weapon?”
“I have this.” She flung her hands forward, expecting electricity to shoot from her fingers. Nothing happened.
“Right. Effective weapon. We’re going to have to look into that little problem of yours.”
“What problem?”
“Who hid you from yourself? That’s what I want to know. Boom!”
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?” The old man sauntered next to her.
“How did we get from death and chaos to here?” White wisps of fog swirled around them. Light refracted off of the fog. It pushed through white clouds. It created a spider web-like net that neither bound nor restrained. It pierced Tom’s skin like tiny lasers, covering his cheeks with bright dots. She waved her arm and the light swirled around her like bioluminescence.
“That’s the question, isn’t it? See this? This is the light. It’s all around you, but you can’t find yours with any consistency. Why is that?”
“If I knew, then I’d know.” She
peered in front of her, she gazed overhead, she twisted to look behind her. “Where are we going? How do we know the way?”
“Yip, yip, yip, yip, yip,” called Tom. “Come on. Come on, now.” Tom extended his arm. “We have allies, Ms. Em. We use them.”
A huge wind kicked through the white from overhead. It blew in gusts, making her hair billow along her scalp and whip along against her skin in small, stinging slaps. It stirred the wispy clouds and caused them to disappear. A loud screech blasted. Her hands flew to her ears.
“Boom!” yelled Tom.
The word erupted like thunder, echoing into the distance. Marissa’s hair stood on end.
“Say it with me, Ms. Em. Boom!”
“Boom!” she yelled. She laughed. “Boom!” she called again. “Boom, boom, boom!”
A giant talon skewered through an overhead cloud, followed by the largest bird-like creature Marissa had ever seen. The wing span must have been 20 feet or more. Light shone from its multi-hued body. It was beautiful. The wings sparkled like diamonds. The top of its body gleamed metallic gold. The gold yielded to an array of luminescent, rainbow-like colors on the tail. Its eyes were peacock blue. The giant winged beast settled onto Tom’s arm as if it was as light as a small falcon. Tom kept his arm aloft, easily balancing the enormous creature.
“This is a Coati-lumina.”
“What’s a Coati-lumina?”
“This is.”
“How can you hold her aloft like that? She’s huge.”
“She is that. I’m in balance with her energy. If I were to see her as an object or a thing, I’d be crushed. Remember that.” He tapped his temple with his free hand. “I call her Chiara, which is the dark feminine. Make no mistake – this bitch can kill you, shred you to pieces.” He slashed his hand in front of his throat. “You’d do well to embrace the dark feminine, Ms. Marissa.”
“The dark feminine…” We’re like three splashes of brilliant color in a white-washed world. “You know, all the color died after my parent’s death.”
“I know.” He looked up at the avian-creature with affection. “But it didn’t die. It just fell out of sight.”
“And embracing the dark feminine sounds super scary.”
“I know.” He flicked his wrist and the Coati-lumina took off into the sky, creating another wind that whipped Marissa’s hair and caused Tom’s stupid hunter cap to fly free. “But you’ve got to embrace it.”
The great bird rose until it absorbed into the white. “That’s what happened to me, too. I was just soaked up into the white world of my aunt’s.”
“Yep,” Tom agreed, gazing skyward. “Let’s see if we can get you back.” He pulled a lure out of his pocket. “Go get me one of those heads you chopped off.”
“Ew, no!” Marissa stepped back. “That was just part of this dream.”
“Go. Get one.”
“I don’t know where to look.” She took another step backward.
Tom fed the golden chain of the lure through his hands until he reached the hook at the end. “Go!”
“No!”
Tom whirled to face her. “So that’s it? You’re just going to refuse your destiny? Just like that? We may as well plaster you to one of your aunt’s white walls like a faded, gray water-color. Go get one of the damn heads.”
The words were sent with such force, they punched into Marissa’s stomach causing her to fall backward. She fell into a white abyss, screaming, and landed in the muddy place where she had chopped off the rabbit head of the beautiful woman. Whump! Her breath shot out of her chest. She gasped and heaved until her breathing restored. Turning her head to the left she came face to face with the rabbit-faced head. “Gah!” Rolling to her side, she pushed up to standing. She grimaced and reached for the long, wavy brown hair. She grabbed the end of the hair and looked into the blank, lifeless eyes of the bunny face. The hare-face wavered, blurring, until the human face became revealed. Marissa let out a long, piercing scream and dropped the head. I cut off my own head, feet, and hands! I gutted me! The face staring back at me is me!
She flicked her hands madly and hopped up and down.
“Did you find one?” Tom’s voice called through the air.
“Yes…no…yes…maybe.”
“Is that a yes or a no, Ms. Marissa? Make up your mind.”
“It’s a yes, but it’s my head. So not suitable.”
“Bring it.”
“No,” she wailed.
“Bring the damn head,” Tom commanded with the same force as before.
Marissa ground her teeth together, scrunched up her face, and let out a loud exclamation, spraying spit from her mouth as she did this. She clenched and unclenched her hands over and over and over.
“Get over here!” Tom yelled. “Chiara’s going to sail away and that is not going to make me very happy. I’ve been trying to claim her for years.”
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” Marissa cried. “Okay…picking up the head…picking up my head…picking up a head that looks like mine.” She plucked the dirty hair out of the mud and looked at her face. It looked so sad. It looked like it should have been a happy face. This face should have belonged to someone else, someone who could give it a happy, fulfilled life. Using her thumbs, she gently closed the eyelids over the dead, hazel eyes. She reached for the corner of her shirt and wiped away the smudges on the cheeks. Tears started trickling down her face. She hugged the head tightly to her chest and wept.
“I’m waiting,” Tom yelled.
“I’m coming,” she snapped. “Hold your damn horses, old man.” She began to climb out of the abyss, using her instinct to guide her, as well as Tom’s chuckles. Once more immersed in the white world, she handed the head to Tom.
“Good choice. This one will bring Chiara right down.” He fastened the head to the hook and began to twirl the line.
“This is creepy,” she said, watching the head that looked like hers spin in a circle.
“Pull on your big girl panties and deal with it.”
The wind from the gilded wings began to buffet. Marissa peered up into the white sky but could only see white, swirling to and fro in billowy gusts.
“Yip, yip, yip, yip, yip. Come on now. Get your big, beautiful self down here,” Tom called. He whirled the lure until it blurred. The blur began to crackle with light. Tom slowed down the whirling.
Marissa’s mouth fell open as she watched the head. Light beams poured out of the eye sockets and mouth.
Vague colors appeared through the mist as the Coati-lumina came into sight. Tom released the head and it soared into the sky, tumbling like a light filled rocket into the claws of Chiara. The bird beast screeched in triumph, her wings beating hard. The second the knifelike talons perforated the scalp of the severed head, Marissa clutched her own head and shrieked. No longer separate from its body, it was now her head, attached to her body, being painfully hefted into the creepy white sky.
Chapter 23
I’m definitely losing my mind. The forceful, steady squeeze of the giant bird’s talons pierced her scalp. Blood trickled from her temples. Her hands grasped the smooth, chiseled claws of her captor. “Let me go,” she pleaded, twisting back and forth. “Let me go!”
The bird did as she asked, and she fell through vistas of white, landing in her aunt’s bedroom. No, wait a minute, this is my bedroom. Or, wait, it was my bedroom after my mom died.
As if she was watching a movie of her life, she viewed her 15year old self, laying on the bed sobbing. Her aunt appeared at the door, her long, brown hair tucked inside of a white turban, like a Hollywood star from the old glamour era.
“Marissa? I’ve brought you something to ease your mind.”
“Did you bring back my mom and dad?” she wailed.
“No, dear, I can’t do that.”
“Then I don’t want whatever you’ve brought me. Nothing will ease my mind.” She rocked back and forth on the bed.
“The doctor said this will help.”
“The
doctor didn’t lose his parents in a plane crash. Go away!”
Her aunt’s shoes softly shuffled across the white carpet. The bed gave way where her aunt sat, like a small bird, at the edge of the white bedspread. A hand reached out and stroked her hair.
Marissa squeezed her eyes tighter, hoping the hand would disappear.
“Come on, dear, do as the doctor ordered.”
“No!” young Marissa protested.
Older Marissa peered out from her vantage point, observing her surroundings. Tom’s face poked out of the white wall, chewing on a blade of grass.
“Where are we? Stuck in the wall?”
“Not stuck, exactly. We’re incognito, Ms. Marissa.”
She tilted her head down and saw the wall stretching down in front of her. “Is my face all you can see, too?”
“Yup.” He calmly chewed in the grass stem. “That’s where it happened, Ms. Em. I knew we’d uncover the truth.”
“What did we uncover? My aunt is only trying to console me.”
“Just wait. Chiara dropped you here for a reason. It’s time to put your face on straight. No more peering through rabbit eyes.”
A loud pop-gun like sound echoed through the dream. The scene changed. Marissa and Tom peered through the kitchen window, like two strange ghosts.
Aunt Topaz stood before a handsome Latino man. His dark hair slicked back from his face. He wore a brown suit, with an elegant green dress shirt, open at the collar. He spoke to her aunt in hushed tones.
“This is importante, Topaz. Muito importante.”
“Is that Spanish?” Marissa whispered.