Embraced by the Shadows

by Mayra Calvani

  For a long moment they stared at each other, holding hands.

  And Alana felt as she had felt so many times when they were little. A wave of sublime unity and closeness swept over her. She remembered the blood pact. She remembered all the times when their minds had seemed to merge and become as one. And suddenly everything was perfect and she knew nothing on earth could break this spell, this sacred gift.

  "Do you feel the connection?” Valeria whispered.

  "Our bond will transcend everything ... even death,” Alana said, shoving off the sudden feeling of foreboding that gripped her soul.

  * * * *

  Alana thought she would never be able to sleep, but she slept soundly for over ten hours. It was already early afternoon when she woke, utterly glad because it was a Monday and she didn't have to go to work. She took a long hot bath. Slowly and thoughtfully, she combed and blow-dried her long hair with the utmost care.

  She fixed herself a light lunch and sat outside on the warm, shaded balcony to eat.

  And while she did all these things she thought about last night. About strange little incidents of her childhood which only she herself knew about. About the man she had seen in Turkey, about the vividness of her recent dreams or nightmares or whatever they were.

  The whole world suddenly seemed surreal, deceivingly innocent, a trap. Her thoughts streamed round and round in a whirlwind. While the situation appeared highly fantastic and irrational, the most judicious side of her told her there had to be a natural, sensible explanation for everything.

  But her other side, that dark side that eternally haunted her, that relentlessly nagged and gnawed at her insides like a starving rodent; that other part, hammering at her brain against all common sense and logic, told her that her wildest imaginings were the most obvious, the most simple. But was she to believe that her life was a fictional horror story? And even if she did, there was one other question that obsessed her: Why her? It was as if her sanity, like a hot and golden sun, was slowly drifting away, leaving her alone in a cloud of chilling darkness.

  What I can give you in its place is a thousand if not a million times more magnificent ... Look for the obvious, for the simple ... I've waited long enough, too long, for you ... Remember the raw liver? ... Don't you know by now there's an archangel watching over you?...

  No, no, no, no! She refused to believe it.

  Alana shut her eyes and pressed her hands against either side of her head, as if by doing so she were able to cast away the devil's voice.

  * * * *

  Miguel popped his head into her office and gave her a naughty grin. “Looks like we'll be staying late again,” he said in a conspiring whisper.

  When Valeria ignored him, his face turned more serious. She was working at the computer, her eyes fixed intently on the screen, seemingly studying something of the utmost importance. Her desk was covered with project plans, their edges curved upward at the corners.

  "Aren't you done with that yet?” Miguel said, going behind her to glance at the screen.

  Valeria grunted, her right hand working with the mouse.

  "That's good,” he said approvingly, nodding slowly at the screen. Then he glanced at his watch. “Are you hungry? We might as well order a pizza or something. It's five o'clock."

  After a moment Valeria snapped out of her spell and leaned back against her chair. She bit her lower lip, looking contentedly at the screen. She was pleased with her work, too. The hotel remodeling project was going great, though they were behind schedule and everybody involved in it had their nerves rubbed raw.

  Valeria sighed, stretching her arms above her head to ease the muscular pain of her back and shoulders. “I was planning on going home early tonight,” she told him.

  Miguel shook his head. “Can't do it, baby. We're too far behind."

  "Who else's staying?” Valeria said.

  "Sofia and Madeline and Rudy."

  "You dictator. You think we're all your slaves, don't you?"

  "Yes. And you love it."

  "I can work at home,” she said, her thoughts shifting to Alana.

  "Why? I prefer to have you here. With me."

  Valeria threw him a lecherous look. “What about Sofia and Madeline and Rudy?"

  Miguel laughed. He seemed shocked. “Does everything revolve around love and passion for you? We'll only work."

  Valeria smiled. “All work and no fun, huh? Okay. Till what time will we stay?"

  "Till you finish with those lobby plans."

  "Are you crazy? There's no way I can finish them tonight. I need at least two more days."

  "You see? We're too far behind, Valeria. All the more reason to stay tonight. I'm not giving you any hour limit. Just do as much as you can, okay?” Then he added caressingly, “You know I never want to tire you too much."

  "You pervert,” she whispered under her breath.

  He laughed. “Why were you planning on going home early tonight? Did you have any plans?"

  She shrugged. “No. I just wanted to have a talk with Alana. With our different work schedules we've hardly been able to talk during the past two weeks. I'm a little worried about her."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know ... I'm not sure.” She shrugged again, deciding to keep her thoughts to herself. “It's nothing specific. I just miss her."

  "You live together!"

  "I know, I know. Come on, you know what I mean.” Then she said, “She was nearly mugged by a junkie last night. Close to El Patio de Sam.” And she described to him what Alana had told her.

  After listening to Valeria, Miguel tilted his head to one side, somewhat thoughtfully. “Hmm. Maybe it's a coincidence. Did you read the newspaper this morning?"

  "I didn't even have time to brush my hair this morning. I was late, remember?"

  "They found a dead teenager in that same area this morning. On Amanita Street. Sixteen years old. His neck was broken. Just snapped. A junkie."

  "Really? So what are you thinking? That it could be the same kid?"

  Miguel shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe not. Old San Juan is full of junkies. Did Alana mention the name of the street?"

  "No. I'll ask her,” Valeria slowly said, her perfectly manicured fingers distractedly playing with a pencil.

  "Well, I'm going to tell Sofia to order a pizza,” he said, walking over to the door. “Mushrooms and peppers?"

  "And extra cheese,” she said.

  "Alana said it happened in an alley?” he said, turning to look at her from the doorway. “They found this kid on the roof of one of the buildings. Strange, huh? On the roof. Well, the dictator, as you say, will be in his office. Just drop in if you need anything, and I mean anything.” And he winked at her and left her office.

  Valeria smiled lustfully to herself. For a moment her eyes lingered on the empty doorway. The she picked up the phone and dialed her apartment.

  After four rings Alana answered. “Hello?"

  "Alana?"

  "Ah, it's you."

  "Were you sleeping?” Valeria asked.

  "No, no, I was just lying down on the balcony."

  "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

  "I don't know. I have this strange feeling in my gut. I don't know what it is. It's very weird, as if something bad is going to happen."

  "Stop being such a drama queen, Valeria. After last night I'm already shaky enough."

  "I feel as if I should be with you now."

  "Maybe you've been picking up my telepathic signals. I've been thinking about you a lot today. We'll talk when you come home."

  "Alana ... Please tell me the truth. Have you been keeping things from me?” Valeria said.

  There was a silence.

  "No ... Why do you ask me that?” Alana said.

  "I don't know. I told you, I just have this weird feeling. After last night..."

  "When are you coming?"

  "I'll try to finish up as soon as possible."

  "You're work
ing late again?” Alana said, the disappointment in her voice cutting through Valeria like an ice pick.

  "Just tell me that you need to see me—right now—and I'll talk to Miguel and be there in ten minutes,” Valeria vehemently said, meaning it.

  "No ... no, there's no need to be so drastic. I'll wait for you to come. At what time, about ten?"

  "I guess around that time, yes. But I'll try to get out of here earlier than that ... okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Alana?” Valeria said.

  "What?"

  "Last night when that kid tried to rob you ... Do you know the name of the street where it happened?"

  After a pause, “No, I don't know. Why do you ask?"

  "It's nothing. It's just ... Maybe you should watch the news. Watch the news, at six."

  "What happened?” Alana said, this time a twinge of alarm in her voice.

  "I'm not..."

  "Someone found him. He's dead, isn't he?"

  "How do you know?"

  "I don't know how I know. I just know. What happened to him?"

  "Wait a minute, Alana. You told me last night the kid ran off after you pushed him..."

  "What happened to him?” Alana cut in.

  "Someone snapped his neck. Would you mind telling me now what really happened last night. Why did you lie to me?"

  "I didn't lie to you. I didn't know what happened to him. After I pushed him and ran off I heard a scream, but when I looked back he was nowhere in sight. I knew the scream had come from him, but I didn't know what had happened. He vanished! I went back to the alley to look, but he wasn't there."

  "Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You went back to the alley to look? Who the devil did you think you were, Zorro?” Valeria said, as if she couldn't believe anybody could be so stupid.

  "I wasn't alone. Sadash was with me."

  "Last night you told me he wasn't with you!"

  "He wasn't—at the beginning. He came later. Valeria, just tell me one thing. Where did they find him?"

  "I don't know,” Valeria snapped, frustrated. “I don't know the details. On top of one of the buildings. On the roof."

  "On the roof!"

  "Would you mind telling me what the hell's going on? The whole story? I know you're keeping things from me. What happened last night?"

  Silence.

  "That does it,” Valeria said. “I'm coming home right now."

  "No! I mean, don't be silly. We don't have to panic about this. Just finish up whatever you have to do. We'll talk when you come home. I'm okay, really. I'm fine."

  "That guy—Sadash—he's involved in this, isn't he?"

  Another silence.

  "Who is he?” Valeria said.

  "I don't know. To tell you the truth, I don't even know his last name."

  "You don't know?” Valeria sighed. Then she muttered under her breath, “This is frustrating."

  "Listen, just finish up and come home, okay? I'll be waiting for you with a bottle of wine,” Alana said wearily, and hung up.

  Slowly, Valeria put down the receiver. Something was wrong. It wasn't just this little street murder. Something larger was terribly wrong. And it involved that man, Sadash. Yet what it could actually be she couldn't fathom. Sadash. What a curious name. Foreign yet silky like a caress. She wondered about its origin.

  Distractedly, while thinking about this, she drew a little sketch on the left-hand corner of one of the plans: the head of a panther, hissing, with its long curved fangs ready to strike.

  * * * *

  Of course, even before Alana watched the news, she knew. Instinctively she knew. She knew without the shadow of a doubt that the teenager who had tried to rob her was the same teenager they had found dead with a broken neck. And no matter she didn't have actual proof, no matter she hadn't actually seen the murder, she knew Sadash had killed him. She more than knew it. She felt it.

  And why? Because the kid had tried to hurt her? Is that what this was about? A matter of protection? Look for the obvious, look for the simple. Well, this was as obvious and as simple as it could get.

  Amanita Street. What an ominous name for a street. The amanita was one of the deadliest mushrooms, as it can put a man in a coma and kill in a matter of hours.

  Alana downed the contents of her first glass of wine. Her lips twisting in a bitter smile, she remembered how reading about deadly mushrooms had been one of her favorite pastimes as a child. She was fascinated by them, morbidly enchanted by their innocent facade and lethal attributes. She enjoyed stepping on them and crushing them with her feet. And she knew them all. Amanita muscaria and the related destroying angels.... What a beautiful name—destroying angel—and the Death Cap, another beautiful name, highly poetic.... Death Cap...

  But thinking about poisonous toadstools was not going to lead her anywhere.

  She leaned her elbows against the rail of the balcony and gazed at the darkening sky, at the golden shimmering twilight. The sun was dipping slowly behind the green mountains that made the horizon. The view was breathtaking, the sky a concoction of subtle purples and oranges and pinks, shafts of light reaching out from the dipping sun like tendrils coming from God.

  Yes, it was easy believing in God, looking at this.

  You're such a hypocrite, believing in God only when it suits you. Only when you see amazing things. Only when you're sick and in physical pain. Only when someone you've known dies. Only when you're afraid.

  Mami, Mami, where are you now? If you were alive...

  Your mother was killed ... You're wrong, she drowned, an accident ... No, no, someone killed your mother ... SOMEONE ... SOMEONE ... SOMEONE...

  Alana winced. She poured herself another glass of wine and took a long gulp.

  Take it easy, keep it cool. She needed to be coherent when Valeria arrived. On second thought, what did it matter? Drunk or not she was not going to make any sense, anyway.

  Sadash ... He had asked her to meet him again tonight.

  I will not go. No way. No, no, no.

  But what if she went to Amanita street? Just to take a quick look at ... what? She wasn't sure. Maybe drive past the dark alley ... drive past it and throw a quick glance upward to the roofs.

  She glanced at her watch. Only six-thirty. Valeria wouldn't be here till ten. She could easily drive to Old San Juan and be back long before that.

  Don't go. It's ... dangerous.

  She placed the glass of wine on the little side table and hastened into the living room for her bag and keys. She had to go over there. She had to take a look, and it might as well be now, for she knew that sooner or later she would do it. The urge was like cancer gnawing at her brain.

  Clad as she was, in a white T-shirt and blue shorts, her long hair falling in her eyes, she jumped into her car and a few minutes later found herself speeding on the highway. What in the devil she expected to find she didn't know. The whole thing was like a magnetic impulse, pulling her, dragging her there.

  Before Alana reached Old San Juan the sun had already set.

  As she came closer to Amanita street, slowly driving past the bars and cafes and souvenir shops, an ominous feeling took possession of her. Finally, turning left onto Amanita Street, she drove very slowly to have a better look. To her surprise, there were a few people walking on the sidewalk, and some were gathered close to the alley looking up toward the rooftops. Driving past the alley where the kid had tried to rob her, she saw the police had blocked its entrance with yellow crime scene tape.

  A little ahead she parked her car, leaving the ignition on . From across the street she saw that the other alley, the one where she had kissed Sadash, had been blocked with the same yellow tape. Had the police found some kind of incriminatory evidence there? She felt a stab of fear. What if the police found out that she had been there last night? She couldn't think of anything that would lead them to that conclusion, but surely the police had their ways. Maybe DNA from a trace of hair, or maybe she had left fingerprints. Unbelievable, she had be
en partially involved in this murder.

  For a long moment she just sat there and looked through the window, the air conditioning hitting her face. She wanted to get out. She wanted to get out and take a closer look. But what if there was an undercover cop around here somewhere waiting for the culprit, or culprits, to come back to the murder scene? This probably was a ridiculous thought, entirely due to reading too many detective novels. But what if it was true?

  Alana turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car.

  The night air was muggy and warm, strangely comforting after the coolness of the conditioned air. She crossed the narrow street and walked over to the first alley. The people that had gathered here to look were now gone, but nonetheless Alana halted and took a quick glimpse down the alley. She appeared casual, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her shorts.

  She wasn't sure what she had expected to see, but there was nothing here. She looked up toward the roof of the four-story building. Nothing. There were no outside metal stairs leading up to the roof. How had the kid ended up there? The news had been ambiguous about this aspect of the crime, maybe purposely so.

  Vaguely aware of the leering glances her legs got from some of the passers-by, Alana turned down the street in the direction of the other alley. Casually stopping again, she peered into the alley.

  Standing there at the farthest end of the alley, his white shirt gleaming in the darkness, was Sadash. Alana gasped, reflexively flinching back, and in the process bumped against one of the passers-by.

  "Whoa!” the man said in a friendly way. “Had a bit too much to drink?"

  But Alana gave him a disoriented, frightened look.

  "Are you all right?” the man asked her.

  "Sorry ... Just—just fine,” she said. But she was looking into the alley, which was now perfectly empty.

  With her heart still stuck in her throat, Alana turned hurriedly back toward her car. As she was crossing the street a fast-moving convertible Jeep came up and almost ran over her. The driver cursed, slamming on the brakes. But she didn't even turn her head to look at him. Right now her only aim was to get into her car and out of here. When she found herself secured inside her car, her hands tightly clasped on the wheel, she began to shake her head and chuckle softly to herself. Such a fool! The power of suggestion. That's what it had been. Nothing more than the power of suggestion.