The Beckoning of Beautiful Things (The Beckoning Series) (21 page)

“These claws here can apply 950
pounds per inch of pressure.” He clutched his hand into a tight fist until it trembled. “Bugs was dead the minute Beelzebub struck. Boom!” He jabbed the air with his free hand.

Marissa jerked again. She wondered if she’d ever get used to that exclamation. “Boom.”

“We’re going to get you started with the lure tomorrow.”

“I have to work.”

“We’ll do it after work, then. You have to start training, Ms. Marissa, you have to get this.” Tom gently hefted the bird up and down. “A good ten pounds here, Beelzebub is. We’ll start you off with a falcon. They’re smaller. When you’re ready you’ll get your own predator.”

A smile appeared on Marissa’s face then quickly disappeared as she examined the blood dripping off of the hare.

“Something you have to know about Beelzebub here. Eagles bond with people. I’ll never let you hold Beelzebub. It’s for your own good. Falcons – they’re hunters, but they’re not so bad to handle. Old Beelzebub is like a bad-tempered attack dog. He’s got a bad-ass attitude. I have to show him that I’m the boss. I’m the bigger dog.”

The sharp, golden eyes took in everything as the eagle shredded and swallowed the remains of his supper. He did, in fact, look quite powerful.

Tom’s ease with the bird impressed her. Overcome by curiosity, she asked, “How do you do that?”

Tom’s eyebrows lifted slightly and he smiled. “I’ll show you after supper. But right now we need to put
Beelzebub’s hood on and tuck him into bed.”

They walked amiably toward the house, with the bunny in tow, Buster trotting by Tom’s side. “You’re going to prep this rabbit.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Daniel can show you. He’s a fine cook. Matter of fact, he’s probably in the kitchen right now, preparing the base for the bunny.”

“The base?” She wrinkled up her nose.

“You know, the soup stock. You got to have the right base to cook your kill in.” He took a few more steps before adding, “It’s a simple process to prep game. You have to cut off the paws and the head – boom!”

Marissa jumped once again.

“Once you do that, he’s no longer Bugs. Now he’s supper. You take off the head and you remove the personality. He becomes a pile of meat.”

Once more Marissa pictured holding dangling heads in her hands.

“You pull back the skin at the neck and pull the skin off the leg, just like you’re taking off your socks.”

“Except that my legs don’t bleed when I take off my socks.”

Tom glanced over at Marissa and smirked. “Was that a joke, Ms. Marissa? Did you manage to find a little bit of humor out in the field?”

“Kind of.” A wan smile appeared and then vanished.

“The part that might cause you to lose your cookies is the intestines. We have to slice down the belly and get all them guts out. We have to be really delicate with the little green gland in
the liver. That’s where all the bile is stored. If that gets cut, the meat is tainted and there goes all Beelzebub’s hard work. You don’t want him to feel like he’s not doing his job properly, do you?”

Marissa cocked her head up at Tom. “No, we wouldn’t want that.” She imagined herself pulling out bunny guts, her hands all bloody – just like holding a man’s head in her hands.

“You’re a mite possessed about men’s heads, Ms. Marissa.”

Her head whirled toward Tom. “How do you know?”

Tom smiled and did not answer. “After that, we chop the meat up, cook the shit out it – excuse my French – and dinner is served. We’ll have to dispose of the remains properly. Don’t want Buster here to get no worms.”

“Ew. No, we don’t want that.”

“And we don’t want us to get no worms, neither. That’s why we cook the bejeezus out of the bunny.”

Marissa’s stomach turned.

They reached the house, and Tom extended the dead bunny to Marissa. “Here, take this into the kitchen. It’s right through that door there. I gotta go tuck in Mr. Beelzebub here and then I’ll be right in. Ask Daniel where the gloves are. He’ll also get you an apron to wear. You’ll make a fine kitchen wench.” He winked at her.

Marissa regarded the rabbit like it was radioactive. She took a small step backward.

Tom’s face grew cold. “This ain’t no game we’re playing here, Marissa. Take the dang rabbit and go inside. Maybe when we take the rabbit’s guts out, we’ll shove them into you. You don’t seem to have any.”

“I do, too!”

“I haven’t seen them.”

“They’re right here, standing in front of you, safe inside my belly. And they’re going to stay safe.” Marissa’s belly surged with heat as she said this.

Tom’s eyes glinted with fire. “Nothing about you is safe right now, Ms. Em. Nothing! You’re in the middle of a mess of trouble and you’re not prepared. If you hadn’t met Daniel, you’d be dead as this rabbit in a matter of days.” He shook the limp bunny in her face. “I’ll bet you’re just wah, wah, wahing inside about ‘why did this happen to me, what am I going to do, wah, wah, wah.’ What you’re going to do, girl, is pull up your britches and get to work. Fun time is over. Play time – gone – boom! You got to find your power and wield it! Now take the dang rabbit!”

Marissa scrubbed her palms up and down her thighs. Her stomach had bunched like Tom’s hand squeezed her guts, demonstrating the torque of an eagle’s talons. Her breath came in shallow pants as her hand reached out for the hare. She curled her fingers around the ears and brushed Tom’s hand in the process. Electricity sparked from her hand.

“Feel that?” Tom roared. “That’s coming from you! Own it!”

“I’m trying,” she wailed.

“Not hard enough. You’re nothing but a big sissy. My grandbaby’s braver than you are.”

Ouch.
She took another step back, holding the rabbit away from her like it might bite her.

“The dang rabbit’s
dead.
Hold it like you mean to hold it. Hold it like you’re proud of what this bird here just did for you.” He raised the hooded eagle high, causing the plumes at the top of the leather hood to bob and sway and the eagle’s wings to flap. “Your Daniel is a patient man. I’m not. My little bit of patience with you is shot. You’re not in kindergarten anymore. You’re in the big leagues now.” He lowered the bird and cooed to it. “Easy, Beelzebub, easy. I’m not mad at you.”

Furious, Marissa squared her shoulders and dropped her arm, clutching the deceased hare. She took a deep breath and glared at Tom. “Is this better?”

“It’ll have to do until you can find better.”

“What got your panties in a twist, old man?” Marissa said defiantly.

Tom’s eyes widened briefly. “Okay, so there might be hope for you – might.” He turned and stomped off, muttering to himself, the bird, or the dog.

Shaking like the bunny must have an hour ago
, Marissa turned and clomped into the kitchen, holding the bunny in her trembling hand like a quivering prize.

“I skinned a bunny rabbit,” Marissa told Sober as she was preparing for bed. “It was weird, but I did it. Then I chopped it to bits with a cleaver and ate it.” She mimicked whacking the meat, shouting “Hiya!” Then, she closed her hand, blew on her fingernails, and rubbed her nails on her shoulder. “Are you proud of me? I’m a bloody carnivore. Grrr.” She balled her hands into fists and crouched down, baring her teeth at the dog. He wagged his tail and licked her face.

Daniel had dropped her off at her home about an hour earlier at her insistence. She needed time to think, time to feed the dog
, and time to ponder this so-called trip she was going on. “And I’m going somewhere tomorrow – haven’t a clue where – but you’ll supposedly be well taken care of – by Daniel.” Sober thumped his tail against the wall. “Don’t go taking sides. You’re
my
dog even though I’m soul bound to another.” Just saying the words invoked the tendrils of connection. They seemed to cast about, seeking and finding their way to Daniel at the merest thought of him. They’d snake from her loins to his and find their way from heart to heart. All kinds of pleasurable sensations would stir inside of her, like some great kettle of passionate stew being prepared inside of her, slowly simmering, bubbling and boiling as circumstances allow.

“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 wall
s 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!