The Jar

Editor's note:

This is part 2 of a three part presentation of Manuel Melendez's novel, The Jar. Part 1 can be found in the Summer 2025 Issue of LaineLit. Part 3 will be in the Winter 2026 issue. See you then!

CHAPTER 25

“Whatever, or whoever, attacked that man, devoured him while he was still alive,” Nikki said, lifting her mug of coffee and taking two long sips, then placing it down and tapping her lips with a napkin. There were dark spots under her eyes and Alex knew what it meant—she was taking this case too personally, and that made him worry about her. But she was a big girl, like she had told him many times when they thought people like themselves, doing their type of jobs, could also fall in love and lead a normal life.

All three of them, Alex, Taylor, and Nikki, sat at a table in the farthest corner of the city morgue’s cafeteria. It was two minutes past six in the morning and the place was almost empty, but old habits are hard to break. This was their private spot whenever Nikki wanted to share information with them about a case, they were all working together.

“I’ve been doing this job for the past twelve years, and I have never seen what I saw when they brought the man in,” Nikki continued. “There were bite marks—human bite marks—throughout his entire body and practically, by some unbelievable force, they crunched his bones as if a truck ran over him a few times. My God, they pulverized his bones into dust. How can that be possible?”

“What about all that green pus on the floor?” Taylor leaned forward and rotated an empty bottle of water in his hands. “And the stink, man. I think I’m going to smell that shit on my clothes, in my skin, for a long time.”

“That’s another thing, I’m still waiting for the lab results, but something contaminated his blood with the same green fluid that was throughout the basement.”

“So, what do you think? Some wild animal he was probably keeping and somehow it got loose?” Alex asked. “It would not be the first time some knucklehead playing Doctor Doolittle. I’m sure you guys remember a few years back when they found a goddamn tiger caged in a Bronx apartment.”

“If that was a wild animal that did this, I’ll feel sorry for the person whose job it is to find it. One bite ripped apart that man’s face. Plus, there were large puncture holes that went deep and straight to the back of his neck. The only animal I could imagine doing such damaged is a saber-tooth tiger, and if I’m not mistaken, that species missed Noah’s Ark.” Nikki said.

“Are you sure about that?” Alex asked.

“About the saber-tooth tiger or that it was only one bite that removed half of the man’s skull?” Nikki smiled.

“The bite part,” Alex said, grinning sarcastically at Nikki. “You mentioned there were human bites that covered his body. Are you sure it wasn’t an animal that bit him? Maybe he was keeping a large monkey there. Aren’t their teeth like humans?”

“Not exactly,” Nikki corrected Alex. “Their canines, or their fangs, are larger and project out from the tooth row, while in humans they are similar in size to the other teeth, and they don’t stick out. The bite marks in his body were proportional to those of a human, while the one that ripped his face wasn’t.”

“Not that I’m questioning your expertise,” Taylor finally stopped playing with the water bottle and pushed it away from him. “None of this makes any sense.”

Nikki tilted her head backwards and stared at the ceiling. She stayed in that position for close to a minute, then dropped her head and moved it from side to side. She then pinched the bridge of her nose; the dark circles around her eyes were more pronounced. “You’re right. You’re one hundred percent right. None of this makes any sense at all. But it’s my job to put all the pieces together of the puzzle and make some logical sense out of it.”

“What about the blood samples found in the two killings? Did they match his?” Taylor pressed on.

“I haven’t received the results yet, but there must be some footage of him on the surveillance camera videos. Right?”

“Good reliable MTA fumbled the ball,” Alex added, not hiding his disgust. “Those cameras were supposedly vandalized a year ago, and they never came around to replace them. You know, the same bullshit story; their budget didn’t allow it, but that same budget allows them to keep their top honcho rent free in a mansion.”

“Well, that’s irrelevant,” Nikki said, peeking at the mug and drinking what was left of the coffee. “Now, here’s something that, although the results from the lab are still pending, I need to share with you guys… but it stays here, between us. The green fluid found all over the place is not human.”

“Come again.” Taylor’s eyebrow arched up.

Looking around as a few more early bird workers dragged themselves into the cafeteria, Nikki leaned forward as both detectives did the same. “I ran a few tests on the samples of that stuff. For one, it had the texture of a tree sap, and I found a heavy amount in the man’s digestive system. It’s clearly some type of substantial nutrients, for there were no food particles in the man’s stomach, except for the green stuff the only thing he had digested for…my guess, for the past week or two. I know it sounds incredible, but my conclusion is that this was his only source of food. Besides that, inside his entire apartment we found traces of this fluid, especially in the kitchen and bedroom.”

“And why are you convinced it’s not human?”

“Humans can’t produce any substance that would even come close to it.”

“What about an animal? You know, like venom from a snake,” Alex asked.

Combing her hair with her fingers, Nikki added. “Funny that you asked. My initial thought was that a gigantic snake has attacked him, bringing the idea that it was probably an exotic pet he kept, and somehow escaped. But, if this was a venom, it would have killed him a long time ago, rather this green stuff was keeping him alive. He was feeding from it. Like a mother’s milk that keeps a newborn nourished until it can digest a much heavier and diverse diet, that’s exactly what this green fluid was for this man. Again, I cannot fathom any animal able to produce something like this.”

“Nikki, what I believe you’re trying to say is that this stuff is neither human nor animal. Then what can it be? Alien?” Alex asked.

“Precisely,” Nikki nodded.

“Hogwash,” Taylor said, his voice going up a few decibels higher. “You’re trying to say that this was an extraterrestrial being that killed this man, but not before feeding him? Excuse me for my lack of faith here, but Nikki, there must be a logical explanation to what this green smelly shit is, but one of those explanations is not that it came from out of space.”

“I know… I know,” Nikki became exasperated. “It’s far-fetched all right, but until I get more scientific data of what this thing is, I have to settle with the idea that we are not dealing with anything that’s human or beast.”

“And you’re sticking with that?” Taylor raised both arms in exasperation. “Of all people, you, who has more education and plaques hanging on your office than Albert Einstein, is leaning towards the idea that our culprit is an evil ET?”

“Okay, here’s another tidbit that you guys need to keep under your hat.” Nikki lowered her voice. “They found small fragments inside the kitchen that were identified as human flesh and droplets of blood. Matched with the DNA and blood samples of the two girls killed, the DNA belongs to the two embryos that were removed from their bodies.”

“Don’t tell me this fucking sicko ate them?” Alex asked with disgust.

“Now the autopsy on our suspect killer shows he had nothing solid to eat in the last two weeks, which means someone… something ate those embryos.” Nikki said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“I don’t care what you believe,” Taylor went back to rotating the empty water bottle. “But what about if this bastard had an enormous snake and was feeding it with those embryos? I’ll tell you, there might be a mammoth of a snake, maybe an anaconda, inside that basement.”

“Okay, if that’s your theory, answer me this,” Nikki said. “We have here a maintenance man who lives in a basement, with access to as many traps to catch all the rats in the city, and he’d rather go out there… out into the streets to murder young girls and then takes precious time to cut out their embryos. Why? Was this snake a finicky eater?”

Taylor laughed. “You got me there. Maybe he had his own sick reason to do what the hell he was doing, but I’m still leaning towards that this bastard was housing a monster of a snake. I still say is an anaconda.”

“Okay, Taylor, let’s go with that.” Nikki stretched her neck and then massaged the back of it. “Let’s say there was a snake involved. A normal snake sheds their skin when they get bigger, they need that new skin to give them more room to grow, which means the more they eat the more they shed, and depending on the species, let’s take a snake the size of an anaconda or something similar, it will shed from once every three months to even once a week. Now, based on that fact, this gargantuan of a snake must have shed a few times, therefore, why is there no evidence of snake skins anywhere? Plus, if that was the case and the snake escaped and had a five-course meal at its owner’s expense, then why haven’t we found a large cage that could hold such monstrosity?”

“Damn, girl, I’m impressed,” Taylor smiled. “I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable about snakes.”

“Taylor, I grew up in India, and to give you an understanding, there are over 270 species of snakes in my country, and about 60 are highly venomous. I learned at an early age a lot about them because my father ran one of the many snake parks throughout India and he taught me how to feed them, raise them, and not only be aware of their characteristics, but to respect them as well. That’s why I’m convinced that a snake wasn’t part of this. Besides, anacondas, and I’m using that species to satisfy your theory, kill by constricting their prey until it can no longer breathe. And, like all snakes, regardless of the size and kind, they swallow the prey whole, headfirst. They will not take a bite from someone’s face and keep going.”

“So where does that leave us?” Alex leaned back on the chair and finally pushed aside the untouched bagel with cream cheese he had bought when he was hungry half-hour ago.

“Question to you Nikki, are you trying to tell us that there’s something out there to make us believe,” Taylor said as he crumpled the water bottle. “That this might not be the last time we hear of a pregnant woman getting killed for her unborn child?”

“Exactly,” Nikki said as she pushed away from the table and stood up. “The thing responsible for these killings is still out there, and I believe it uses a man as merely a puppet. And another thing, it’s a woman who’s behind all this.”

“How did you conclude that?” Taylor asked, getting up as well.

“The bite marks all over his body were small.”

“Maybe a small man?” Alex joked.

“There were also footprints found throughout the apartment, and by the size and structure they point to a woman’s prints.”

“Is there a difference between man’s and woman’s footprints?” Alex asked, still sitting down as he looked up at Nikki. “A foot is a foot. Right?”

“Studies have shown that a woman has a wider forefoot, short arch length, and shorter metatarsals compared to men—”

“Wait… wait,” Alex raised his hand, interrupting Nikki. “What the hell is meta…meta… whatever that word you used.”

“You mean metatarsals?” Nikki smiled and gave Alex a wink—it was something she used to do whenever she displayed her superior intelligence to Alex back in their good days. “That’s the toe bones.”

“Well, you should have said that.”

Nikki rolled her eyes playfully and then continued. “I’m sorry Detective Munro, next time I’ll bring crayons and cute little pictures.”

“Funny, we got jokes now,” Alex said, and stuck his tongue out.

“Anyway,” Nikki shook her head. “That means that our killer, or the one who orders the kill, is a woman.”

“What about all his crunched bones?” Alex tried to retaliate for looking foolish. “A little dainty woman can’t possibly do that type of damage. Shit, I bet not even a body builder could.”

“Correct. I didn’t say I have all the answers,” Nikki said, a hint of annoyance in her mannerisms. “We’re still waiting for more information from the laboratory. But we need to start somewhere, and that somewhere is finding out if this man had a girlfriend.”

“And what about his torn face?” Taylor asked, depositing the crunched water bottle in a nearby garbage can. “Any idea how it happened?”

“Perhaps rats with sharp teeth,” Nikki answered weakly. “Think about it, if they could eat through concrete, what’s a soft tissue of a human face to those choppers.”

“Okay, I’ll buy that for now,” Taylor said.

“Gentlemen, like always, it’s been a pleasure,” Nikki walked away. “But I need to get back to my job. Just remember, concentrate on finding that mysterious woman, and we’ll be closer to nipping this in the bud. Enjoy this glorious day.”

They watched Nikki cross the cafeteria as she exited through the glass doors.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking?” Taylor asked.

“A mystery lady?” Alex replied.

“Hit it on the button,” Taylor nodded. “We need to find our mystery woman from the bar.”

“Yes, we do… and let’s hope we don’t stumble on the remains of a young girl with her guts ripped to pieces first,” Alex said and taking his jacket off the back of the chair, both him and Taylor walked towards the same way Nikki left.

CHAPTER 26

Mike stood in front of the building and cursed Frank for the millionth time since they had found his mutilated body. An entire month had gone by, while Mike and everyone had to wait for the cops and all the other flunkies from the city bureaucracies to finish whatever they were doing inside the basement. They refused to give them access to the area until finally they were satisfied with all their probing and Management Office received the official ‘go ahead notice’ from the Police Department that they could go in. Now, as Mike glanced at his watch, Johnny, like always, was late, and he was sure the lazy son of a bitch would be arriving with a stupid alibi to protect his ass from being written off. Lucky for Johnny that they were now one man short. He could pull that shit now, but as soon as they hired someone to take Frank’s place, Mike would get the irresponsible bum out of here. He never liked the man but only tolerated the clown because it was rumored he had a family member in the main office.

At last, he saw Johnny coming from the other side of the courtyard, carrying a bucket and a small ladder that hung from his right shoulder, which, if anybody knew any better, was the ultimate picture of a hard worker. It didn’t convince Mike one bit, a fool he was not, because he figured Johnny must have picked up all the equipment from the storage room to make himself as busy as a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest.

“Hey, Mike,” Johnny started talking while he was at least forty feet away. “I spoke to my Union steward, and I’m not getting anywhere near that basement. Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t see how protected those people were when they were poking in there. Shit, they removed everything inside sealed metal boxes. There’s no way I’m going in there with just a set of gloves, and nothing else.”

“Well, you tell that to the Management and now that we’re one man short, you better start picking up the slack.”

“Hey, Mike, let’s go easy with the demands. The last time I checked, your signature is not on my paycheck. We are both workers and guess what? Just because your title is higher than mine, we’re still fucking equals here. Let’s not allow an extra twenty bucks a week on your pay make you think you’re king.”

“It’s fucking nice having family members working in the front office.”

“And it’s nice having a little title to go straight to your head. Come on, Mike, I don’t see any time soon us going to each other’s backyard BBQ, or shit, even downing a few cold ones after work. Let’s keep it real. But regardless of all the huff and puffs that you want to send my way, my health is worth more than a fucking paycheck.”

“That means you will not help me?”

“Help you? Man, I’m not even going near that infested hell hole. This is as close as I’m getting. If you don’t like it, call Management, call whoever you want. It will not make any difference.”

“You know, Johnny, forget it. Fucking forget it. You think you're protected, so that’s fine. I’ll do it myself, but remember this, your Prima Donna days are coming to a fucking end.”

Johnny stood there, balancing the ladder on his shoulder, and still holding on to the bucket filled with tools. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. Changing his mind, he turned around and walked out of the courtyard.

In one sense, Mike was relieved that Johnny left. At least he didn’t have to keep listening to the bitching that was Johnny’s repertoire ever since he had started working here. Yet, there was a hesitation when he approached the door, and maybe Johnny was right. Mike’s mother always called such things intuition, and she was a believer in listening to those warnings. Once, when he was about twelve, his mother forced the entire family to get off a plane heading to their Disney vacation. An hour later, that same plane crashed. There were no survivors.

Mike took a few steps forward, but the second he saw the yellow ribbon that spelled ‘CAUTION—DO NOT ENTER’ flapping by the basement entrance, he questioned his sanity, and perhaps agreed with Johnny’s attitude. Regardless, this was not the time to bail out and not do the job they paid him to perform. Besides, this was too perfect for when he called the Management office to tell them that Johnny refused to do his duties. Mike smiled. That should be the ammunition needed to get rid of him. Unsnapping the key ring from his belt loop, he went through all the keys until he found the one he was looking for.

Pushing the door open, the first thing that slammed hard against him was the smell, and, as Mike gagged, he wondered if Johnny was right. He recalled seeing every person, from the police to the laboratory workers, wearing protective gear and gas masks. So, why in the world was he entering here with nothing to protect him but a pair of work gloves? Fishing a bandana from his back pocket, he tied it around his nose and mouth and kept his eyes fixed on the floor; he went deeper inside the basement. Even through the handkerchief, the stench was atrocious, and his eyes teared up. “Fuck this shit,” Mike said loud enough that the words echoed in the narrow pathway that led to Frank’s apartment. They also attached the same yellow tape from outside in the apartment's doorway. This one had hung from the top of the door and now laid on the floor, stomped to the ground from the investigators trampling it. Across the floor there were footprints in dried dark green stains and, upon entering the apartment, Mike stopped and took a long look at the place. In disbelief, he combed the area, nodding to himself that this would not be a quick job. To be truthful, he estimated it would be at least a few days of work to bring this place back up to livable condition. What the entire basement needed was a professional crew equipped with the proper cleaning supplies and pressure washers to scrub all the walls and floor. Plus, a paint job. Satisfied that it was the best thing to do, and knowing he had the authority to make that type of decision, Mike looked around the basement, gathering information to make the required report for the Management to give him the final approval to hire a crew to perform the job.

He was walking out when he swore he heard what sounded like a soft cry. He stopped and tilted his head slightly towards the direction the sound came from. Mike waited for ten seconds and dismissed it as perhaps kids playing in the courtyard, or even a cat. He continued walking, but the whining sound was more pronounced. It was a low moan and Mike knew it was coming from the area past the Con Edison meters. Taking a few steps forward, Mike figured that perhaps a cat had wandered in when the workers were busy walking in and out, and someone had trapped it inside by mistake. Probably the poor animal was scared, hungry, and dehydrated—besides, he couldn’t afford to have a cat die in here. Annoyed that now he had to spend more time inside this pigsty, Mike took the flashlight from his belt and began walking slowly, hoping to hear the whining again. There were smaller rooms in this area, which in the early days when they had erected the building back in the 1920s, were the living quarters for the janitor, while the super lived in Frank’s apartment. As he flashed the light beam on the floor, he spotted more of the green muck, and carefully stepped around it, but to his relief, the stench was not as strong. Arriving at a long corridor, he shone the light, startled when a rat scurried across the floor. No wonder Frank drank so much, you had to stay drunk to live among rats and roaches and God only knows what other vermin crawled around here. He shuddered with disgust as touches of anxiety to get the hell out of here rattled him. He already had determined that if he didn’t find the cat in less than a minute, he was going to high tail it and deal with the consequences later. Staying by the meters without moving, Mike listened closely, and deciding that he had done enough for one day, he was about to leave. But then he noticed the door to a small room down a narrow hall was ajar. The cat must be in there. Mike nodded and walked to the room. Pushing the door open slowly, because he didn’t want to startle a frightened hungry cat and end up being attacked, Mike went in. The room was pitch black, as Mike searched the room with the flashlight, there, at the corner rolled in a fetal position, was a girl. He wanted to run at first, but when the light shone on her, he realized she was naked, and even though she seemed to be asleep, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He came closer, shining the light all over her body, and he felt his penis tingle as it was aroused. Then the same whine he had heard before escaped from her full lips, and stirring, the girl opened her eyes and a weak smile spread across her gorgeous face. She stood up, her nakedness overpowering him with lustful desire.

CHAPTER 27

Jessica stared at Jesus from one of the middle pews of Queen of Angels Church. Dried tears stained her face, and thankfully the sniffles had subsided. “Oh, Lord,” she prayed silently. “What am I supposed to do?” She felt lost and her worries kept her stomach in a knot. She was afraid to tell anyone of her terrible ordeal and, seeking comfort, she entered the church and cried on God’s shoulders. At first, before entering, it convinced her she would find answers to her awful dilemma, but after praying for the past half hour, all that she received for her fervorous supplications was soreness on her knees. Grabbing the back of the pew in front of her, Jessica sat down and absentmindedly rubbed her knees through her jeans. She didn’t have any close friends like most girls her age, and there was no family member she could trust enough to confide in. The only person she talked about her predicament to was Andy, and he had flipped like a madman, blaming her for her stupidity. Perhaps he was right. It had been a stupid thing to do, but it’s not like she did this by herself. Andy was as responsible as she. But by his reaction and anger, she knew she was all alone to deal with the consequences. It will appall her mother, and her father—oh, Lord—her father. She couldn’t even fathom how her father would react. Knowing his temper and old-fashioned beliefs, he would demand to know who the boy was and would take actions into his own hands. Regardless of how Andy ran away from her and calling her a whore before he did, Jessica still cared for him and feared what her father would do to him. Force him to marry her? Kill him?

Fresh tears once again flooded her eyes. They ran down her face and spilled onto the floor. She was only sixteen, and her life was already ruined in her mind. What the hell was she thinking when she agreed to go to Andy’s house when his parents were away for a getaway weekend? At first, she thought nothing of it. Didn’t she hear stories in school among the girls that many of them did exactly what she had done with no problem? It sounded like fun, even taboo to be alone with a boy, but Andy was not any other boy. He was nice to her. They met at the beginning of the year when she found herself alienated in a new school. Most of the girls looked at her the way you look at an unknown species in a zoo, and the boys merely stared at her, for she didn’t have the sexiness or the wild streaks the popular girls seemed to possess. Andy was also a quiet kid, not popular either, a nerd if you wanted to press Jessica on how she saw him, but he was sweet. At first, they each discreetly glanced at each other, until one day Jessica smiled at him and said hello. It took Andy over a week to find the courage to speak to her, but after that, they became inseparable. He lived a block away from her, and every day after school, they waited for each other and walked home together. He made her laugh, and soon all that went through her young head centered on Andy. Their first kiss was clumsy, and by mistake, he bit her lip. But as the old saying goes, practice makes perfect. They couldn’t get enough of kissing anytime they were alone. One day they explored their bodies, touching those secret places that you were told nobody could be allowed to touch. They felt each other through their clothes at first, then they became more adventurous and daring. Their passion for each other grew, until they could not contain each other’s lust, and the second Andy’s parents made plans for their romantic getaway, so too did Andy and Jessica make plans for their own romantic rendezvous.

Now, as Jessica sat by herself in the church's quietness, she cursed the day she had agreed to go all the way. Andy was too scared to buy condoms and, with their inexperience and lust at the heat of the moment, the last thing on their mind was that Jessica could get pregnant.

Her morning sickness didn’t start until two weeks after she had noticed she didn’t get her period. At first, she dismissed it as a change of weather, or the body of a young girl transforming into the body of a woman. Yet, when she threw up and felt tired, she knew something was wrong. But knowing what she had done, she was too afraid to tell her mother. Instead, she bought a home pregnancy test kit, and, to her horror, she discovered the reason for the changes in her and missing her second menstrual cycle. She had been alarmed. She had hoped Andy would be there for her, expecting that between the two of them they would come up with a solution, but in the end, Andy ran.

Looking at the time on her cell phone, it surprised Jessica that she had been inside the church for over an hour and, getting back on her knees, she prayed before getting up and stepping out into the early evening. It was best to go home and tell her parents. Yes, she knew they were going to be angry, disappointed too, but in the end, if she couldn’t trust them, then who could she trust?

Her decision made her feel better, more adult-like, and for the first time since what seemed to be ages, Jessica smiled. Placing her hand over her stomach, she envisioned her new baby forming inside of her—would it be a boy or a girl? Who would the baby look like? Like her? Like Andy? A little like both? Maybe, after the initial shock, Andy would come around. The happiness she felt around her made Jessica feel radiant, and she knew there was a glow within her. As Jessica crossed the street and started towards her house, she took the shortcut between the narrow alleyways that separated the old homes in Sunnyside Gardens. With a new joy in her heart, Jessica sang a song from the old “I Love Lucy” shows her mom watched religiously every Sunday from the DVD Collection her father had given her mother for her birthday. “We’re having a baby, my baby and me.” Jessica sang, and when she was about to exit the alleyway, a shadow fell on top of her; Jessica’s singing became a scream.

CHAPTER 28

Taylor rubbed his face as he watched Alex return from the bodega with two cups of coffee, while the red, white, and blue lights from the emergency vehicles bathed Alex in psychedelic colors. The damn nightmare was not over. It only took a breather, a small hiatus to refresh its battery. Taylor accepted that though, with the nagging that came with it.

“No sugar, right?” Alex asked as he handed the cup to Taylor. “Damn, she was only a kid… a fucking kid with fucking braces. I can’t understand it. Of all the years, I have never seen such brutality.”

“We’re back to square one,” Taylor said, taking off the cover and sipping the coffee. “There’s another killer out there who just picked up the baton.”

“We need to find that woman. That’s the key, as Nikki put it,” Alex said, opening the passenger door of their car and sitting down with his feet resting on the sidewalk. “I was reading the old files from the case that happened around here twenty years ago, and man, it’s like reading our own files. Same identical killings. My question is, how the hell the killer knows the girl is pregnant. What the fuck? All three victims were in the early stage of their pregnancy. They could still wear their regular clothes. All three were less than two months pregnant. So, how the fuck are these motherfuckers able to know they were pregnant? Shit, it makes no fucking sense at all. I’m thinking Nikki’s theory… we’re not dealing with something human.”

“Come on, man,” Taylor looked at Alex in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re buying in to that nonsense. If it’s not human, then what the hell can it be? A spaceman? A boogeyman? Some shit straight out of the ‘Twilight Zone’?”

“Dude, I’m not buying into anything. I’m just keeping all options open. In those files that I read, this Cassandra Quiñonez, the woman whose husband was doing the killings twenty years ago, in the same identical way these killings we’re having now, her only defense when they arrested her was that something had possessed her husband; he was controlled by some type of sexual female demon.”

“You mean a succubus?” Taylor asked as he put back the lid on the cup.

“The article only mentions possession. It didn’t elaborate with fancy names. But, if you ask me, at this moment we need to think out of the box.”

“Out of the box is one thing.” Taylor went around and slid inside the car. “But saying that our prime suspect is a character from the Universal Classic Monsters, is something I refuse to even entertain for a second.”

“And then what?”

Taylor rubbed his face hard and leaned back on the seat. “Start knocking on doors.”

“Been there, done that. All we are we going to do is ask the same questions and get the same useless answers,” Alex said as he finally put the rest of his body inside the car and closed the door. “By the way, what’s a succubus?”

“It’s folklore, a legend that goes back to the Medieval times,” Taylor explained as he drank the last drops of the coffee and rotated the cup in his hand. “A succubus is a female demon who comes into men’s dreams as a beautiful woman. In those dreams she seduces them, has wild sex with them, and controls them.”

“A sex slave?”

“I guess you could say that,” Taylor nodded. “There are many legends. Think of it like the vampire legends. Each country, each writer, adds or takes away something from the original tale.”

“Now, in those legends, does it mention anything with babies?”

“I knew you were going there,” Taylor laughed. “And to answer your question, yes, in some legends, not only does the succubus feed from the man, but she also eats babies, and their primary purpose is to gain life force to become human-like predators.”

“Like vampires, but instead of blood, she needs human flesh, especially babies?” Alex said as he snapped his seat belt on. “Let’s take a spin around the building where we found the sicko.”

“Why?”

“They found woman’s footprints inside the apartment and after we asked practically every tenant in that complex, one thing they all agreed on was the porter was a drunk who they never saw with a woman.”

“You still haven’t convinced me why you want to go there.” Taylor asked.

“Maybe this woman is still inside the basement,” Alex answered.

“Don’t tell me you want to go chasing after a damn folklore?”

“Not exactly, but let’s say this mystery woman uses that folklore to deceive men.”

“To kill babies still unborn? Come on, that’s a hell of a goose chase if I have ever seen one.”

“Listen to me. Maybe she’s some sicko that’s using the embryos for her own twisted way. I don’t know. Maybe she thinks it will prevent her from growing old.”

“You got something there,” Taylor said as he crushed the empty coffee cup and placed it on top of the dashboard. “The cosmetic industry uses placenta, which is an organ that attaches to the uterus almost the second they conceived the baby. They use it to make many skin care products. They claim that the proteins and irons found in the placenta are one of the best ingredients in their products to stimulate skin regeneration and eliminate wrinkles.”

“How the hell you know all this?” Alex asked, always in awe of the knowledge Taylor was possessed with.

Touching his temple, Taylor smiled as he snapped his seat belt on and maneuvered the car away from the curb and merged with the traffic. “Reading, brother, merely by reading.”

“In that case, you see my point?” Alex asked.

“There’s something there alright,” Taylor said. “Brother, I’m liking this out of the box thinking.”

*****

Mike felt sick to his stomach. His hands shook and even though he had washed them and rubbed them until they were raw, in his mind he could still see them bloody and red. It had happened so fast, so surreal, that it was hard to fathom what had just taken place mere hours ago. If this was morning, he would have credited what was going in his head as the residue of a vivid nightmare, but he wasn’t that lucky. What occurred out there inside the alleyway was as real as the stench of blood that coated his nostrils. Lowering his face and covering it with his hands, Mike kept replaying over and over the unexpected look on the girl’s face. Sweet Jesus, she was singing, that he remembers well, and her happiness complemented the silvery aura around her. Damn, she was only a kid, perhaps as young as his own daughter, and that simple fact made Mike wail. But as soon he felt remorse about the evil deed he had just performed, something stirred within him, and a soothing calmness enveloped him. Lilith’s image appeared abruptly and all that he cared about now was to please her, to make her smile, because no one, not even his wife, had ever smiled at him the way Lilith did. It was the enchanting way her full lips curved upward, a hint of her perfect teeth showing, her dimples stressing her beauty that made him willing to crumble at her lovely feet. He grabbed his crouch and gave it a hard squeeze. Maybe Lilith would reward him for his first kill. And pushing aside God and Jesus as his Savior, Mike knew he would travel the path of a sinner as long as he needed to feel the heat that rose from Lilith’s thighs.

His cell phone rang, breaking the image of Lilith, and Mike frowned as he looked to see who was calling; it was his wife. He stared at the screen and on the fourth ring, before it went to the voicemail, he answered the call.

“Where are you?” his wife’s voice came at him and, for a second, he hated her tone. “Mike, are you there? It’s past midnight.”

“Yes, I’m here. Stop yelling,” Mike said, not hiding his irritation. He’d rather stepped inside the basement and spend the night with Lilith. “There was a busted pipe in the basement I needed to take care of.”

“Why can’t Johnny take care of it instead. You know, he is the worker under you.”

“Johnny already clocked out and I’m the super. I need to take care of these types of emergencies, especially now that we are one man short.”

There was a long pause, and Mike could imagine his wife sitting at the kitchen table, the phone cradled by her shoulder and ear, wearing a housedress like she always did—some flowery print—and probably eating something.

“When do you think, you’ll be home?” she finally asked, her voice now nasal and thin. Damn, how much he hated that voice.

“I don’t know.” Mike took the cell away from his ear and the first urge was to slam it against the ground. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, then returned the phone to his ear. “Maybe in an hour. I need to make sure it’s fixed right. I don’t want to hear bullshit from the Management about a high-water bill.”

“The kids were wondering where you were at. You know it’s late, and they get worried.”

Yeah, right, Mike wanted to tell her. Her bullshit always aggravated him, especially when she tried to use the kids as an excuse. Kids my ass. Those two have more important issues than to worry about their father. They wouldn’t give a shit if he stayed out for the rest of the night, as long as he was there to give them money for their needs. That’s what he was to them, their personal piggy bank. Both were as ungrateful as their lazy, fat-ass mother.

“Listen, Matilda, I need to go. The sooner I get off the phone, the sooner I’m finished. I’ll see you later.” He closed the call before his wife responded, which he knew she was going to give him more lip service for when he returned home.

As he snapped the cell phone on its belt holder, he saw two men walking into the courtyard and he recognized them right away, the two detectives from the night they found Frank dead and half eaten by rats. He watched them closely, and when they spotted him, the black detective waved, and both headed his way. He wondered what they were doing here, and rapidly, the image of the dead girl—the girl he slaughtered—splashed in his head. A nervous tick trembled his lower lip, and to stop it, Mike bit down. They were now at arm’s length and the black one gave him that up and down look that cops seemed to have perfected in the Academy. He would rather speak to the white cop instead, but it seems the black one took too much liberty, which didn’t sit too well with Mike. Either way, he had to stay cool. Detectives like this are like hound dogs. They could smell guiltiness miles away.

“Good evening, sir,” Taylor said, giving Mike a quick nod. “Nice cool night to be taking in the moon rays.”

Mike gestured but stayed quiet. It was best to know why they were here, instead of speculating and giving too much information that would incriminate him in the end.

“I was telling my partner here, you remember him, Detective Munro, well I was telling him that after tonight’s latest killing, we needed to return here and take another look.”

“Another killing?” Mike tried to sound surprised.

Alex took a few steps forward, and Mike became flustered. Did they know he was the one who butchered that girl? Could they smell the blood on him? Did anybody see him and recognize him as the super from this complex?

“Yes, another poor girl killed in the same brutal manner that your buddy used,” Alex said, his eyes staring hard at Mike.

“He was not my buddy,” Mike said, a bit snarky. “That piece of shit was a fucking drunk. I won’t tell you I’m sad that he’s dead. Although I have wished he was still alive so he could rot behind bars for what he did.”

“I agree with you,” Alex said. “I agree with you one hundred and fifty percent. But, if you’re a religious person, he’s suffering now more than ever. Plus, he suffered quite a lot before he died. You saw him when we found him… half of his face missing. I can’t fucking imagine how that must have hurt. What about you? I’m sorry I forgot your name.”

“Mike, and yeah, that must have been some awful hurting.”

“I guess your exterminator is giving the rats around here steroids instead of poison, ‘cause man, that must have been a real big motherfucker of a rat to rip half of a man’s face.”

“Well, maybe you noticed the heavy construction being done a block away from Queens Boulevard while driving down here. All that moving and ripping up sidewalks, it stirs the rats’ nest and drives them out. We’ve been having a big rat problem since then.”

“I see,” Taylor took a long look around the courtyard, and then returned his glare at Mike. “I know not only us, but every city personnel assigned to this case asked the same question, but if you don’t mind me asking you again, you never saw or knew if Frank kept some exotic animal in his apartment… or even somewhere in the basement? My father used to work as a maintenance man in a luxury building downtown, and during the summer when I was old enough, he would take me with him to his job. Man, I used to love hanging out in the basement. It was the best place a kid could find himself in. There were so many hallways with twists and turns, revealing all these secret little rooms. I’m sure this basement is the same way, with hidden, little out of the way spots. I believe someone with the authorization could easily keep anything from prying eyes inside one of those rooms. You wouldn’t mind giving us a tour of the basement?”

“I can’t… I’m not allowed,” Mike said, stammering in his words.

“And why not?” Alex asked, his eyes fixed on Mike’s.

“Management needs to give the approval.”

“Yes, you might be right,” Taylor came closer to Mike. “But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. You know what I mean? If you don’t tell them, for sure I will not tell them. My partner here, I know, will keep his mouth shut. Isn’t that right Detective Munro?”

“Nobody has accused me of being a blabbermouth,” Alex said, also taking a few steps forward, making Mike feel like they had boxed him in.

“Sorry,” Mike dropped his eyes to the ground. He resembled a school kid confronted by two bullies in the schoolyard. “I can’t do that. I could lose my job.”

“You know, we are trying to be polite,” Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “But we could just order you to open the door.”

“You need a warrant to do that,” Mike said, feeling a surge of assertiveness rush through his body. “Unless you have one, Detectives, come back with one if you want to enter any place in these premises.”

“Detective Brandon, did I hear correct? Mister Mike here suddenly got lawyer on us and is demanding to see a warrant,” Alex dropped his arms, while taking another step closer to Mike.

“Yes, I heard him loud and clear,” Taylor said. “I’ll tell you; these television shows nowadays are doing more than just entertaining. They are also educating the masses as well. Soon they’ll be printing and framing a law degree right there next to their GED diploma.”

“They sure are, but it’s like when they started showing programs that a man with just a cape could fly. You know how many kids died or broke a few bones believing what they saw on television? A hell of a lot. So, nothing has changed. All this information they’re getting now. I hope they don’t think they can fly. They could get hurt trying.”

“I’ll start fucking screaming if you two don’t back off,” Mike said as he stepped back. “You might use that bullshit tactic against another person, but you guys are not going to strong-arm me. I know my fucking rights and you will not barge in here giving orders. It doesn’t work like that. So, here’s my proposition. Get the fuck out of here and if you want to come back with a warrant, I’ll give you the MVP tour of the basement, or, if not, I’m going to scream, and we’ll see how your superiors approve of your bully police work.”

“Okay little prick,” Alex moved closer. “We’ll be back with a warrant, and when we do, God help you we find nothing out of place. Because if we do, you’re going to see the inside of a jail cell, and some hairy, muscle-bound motherfucker is going to see the inside of your ass.”

Mike’s bottom lip quivered furiously. He could feel a tremor shaking his teeth, yet to his surprise there was an electric jolt that zapped him with an incredible dosage of assertiveness. And as he watched the two Detectives exit the courtyard, a wide smile spread upon his face, stopping the twitch in his lip. Never in his wildest imagination would he have envisioned himself telling two hard-nosed detectives to fuck off. He knew they’d be back. But he’d make a complaint to the Police Department. Even better, he’d call the Management Office first thing in the morning, and he’d let them do the fighting for him. Hopefully, they wouldn’t dismiss it as Mike wasting their time. Regardless, he’d worry about it tomorrow, for now all he wanted was to bask in his triumph over these two bullies. He had his share of being bullied when he was a schoolboy, and even in his adult life, somehow, finally now, he knew it was going to come to a stop. Starting with Johnny, then his wife, and lastly his two kids that saw him as an uneducated baboon. Yes, Mike straightened his back, feeling taller than his five feet four inches.

“You did well, my darling, now come to momma, she needs to give her little boy his reward.”

Mike smiled when Lilith’s whispered words floated into his ears. And like an obedient little boy, he went to her; his manhood rising lustfully.

CHAPTER 29

It was a decent sized room on the second floor of an elderly couple’s one family home. The only window in the room looked out into the backyard, and by the assortments of odds and ends, it was obvious to Cassandra that it has been a while since anyone had ventured out there. There was a rusted old grill that probably saw its last burger and hot dogs on a Fourth of July when Gerald Ford was still President. The cracked cement was overtaken by an outgrowth of weeds, mostly dried and brittle that gave a morbid appearance of an abandoned graveyard. Despite the dreary view, the room was quaint, in an old-homely fashion. They sparsely furnished it with a twin bed, a corner desk with a reading lamp, a kitchenette chair tucked under the desk, and a worn-out recliner that most likely dated back to the 70s. She shared the bathroom with another person whom she had never seen but was told by the couple that it was an amiable lady who worked in the city. A few times, Cassandra had heard her come in late at night and leave early in the mornings. Besides that, it was like having the entire second floor to herself—and that arrangement she couldn’t have designed any better. It gave her the freedom to think more clearly, and once Cassandra decided to stay in Sunnyside and finish what she had started, living here was the perfect hideaway.

The hotel had become too irritating; like living in the confinement of a prison. Plus, with the non-stop rumbling from the trains, the loudness from the Queens Boulevard traffic, and the boisterous, sizeable crowds from the pubs, it was enough to make anyone lose their sanity. For someone who valued her privacy, the hotel staff were getting too chatty, which Cassandra knew was their sneaky way of trying to find out more about her. In retrospect, she couldn’t fault them; it’s not common for someone to arrive at a hotel with only an overnight carrying case for a short two-day stay and end up staying for over a month and counting, and the past few weeks holed up inside the room like an introvert hermit.

For those reasons, Cassandra knew it was time to leave, and one day, on one of her short walks around the neighborhood, she had come across a crudely made flyer taped on the lampposts around the hotel area. It was a perfect strategical move by the person who put it there, assuming a guest staying at the hotel for a long period would see it and realize a rented room was less pricey. It was truly a bargain considering that the rent was eight hundred dollars a month, versus the two-hundred dollars a day which Cassandra was paying at the hotel.

The house was one of only four houses sandwiched by fifth-floor walkup buildings on Thirty-Ninth Street, between Queens Boulevard and Forty-Seventh Avenue. The older couple who owned the house, Louise and Thomas, were in their late seventies, and, on the day, Cassandra came with flyer in hand, they had welcomed her with enthusiastic gestures. It was apparent they didn’t get too many visitors by their hospitality and were quick to gab about themselves. Not that Cassandra was interested to know about them, but by the way they acted, it showed that maybe the idea to rent rooms in their homes was more for the necessities to have company than actual financial help. Thomas was a retired college professor and Louise was a retired nurse, and with no children, Cassandra believed they were both nicely equipped to deal with retirement and old age with no difficulty.

Their small talks led to inquiries about Cassandra, which was understandable, and deciding to keep her history of living in Sunnyside to herself, she kept it simple. They were old, but their minds and memories were sharp, and the less they knew about her, the better. For that reason, she fed them the lie that she had recently moved to New York from Pennsylvania and the house she bought was getting a much-needed renovation that would keep her homeless for at least another month.

Pleased with that, Louise even volunteered her help if Cassandra needed an extra set of hands when the moving truck arrived with all her stuff from Pennsylvania.

That same day, Cassandra left the hotel and settled in the room, and living here was an excellent arrangement, and with Thomas being a man who took long walks, which took him through Sunnyside and the other areas close by, Cassandra could stay abreast of what was going on with the murders of those innocent girls. Cassandra usually had those talks with Thomas after Louise retired for bed or was busy tending her small garden in the front yard. It was upsetting for the old woman to listen to those stories, and she avoided any conversation about the gruesome subject. When Cassandra learned about Frank’s death, and the hideous details, she at first wanted to leave, convinced those crimes were caused by a sick man rather than something demonic. Immediately, Alberto assured her she was wrong, and when a third young girl was killed in the same horrifying way, Cassandra agreed that these were no random crimes, but planned murders, which put her once again on the path to take care of unfinished business.

That was the reason that tonight, while she looked out into the dark backyard, she nodded when Alberto showed up.

“He’ll be hunting tonight,” Alberto whispered in Cassandra’s mind.

“So soon? It’s not her way—”

“I know,” Alberto interjected. “But back then she was stronger, and I don’t think that’s the case now. Without the nourishment she needs, she’s probably closer to death.”

“How can you kill something like that? Isn’t she already dead?”

“Death, the way they taught us to believe, is not even close to what actual death is for beings like her.”

“And now she has herself another stooge,” Cassandra said, turning away from the window. “It’s remarkable the weakness of men and how can easily sex control them.”

“Please, Cassandra, you’ll be surprised how much the actions of their significant other add to the mix,” Alberto said, his words coated in sarcasm.

“Typical answer from a man. The blame, regardless of if it is their own doing, always gets thrown back into the woman’s lap. It’s pitiful, Alberto, that even now that you’re dead, or whatever you people call death, you still feel that I must burden the blame with you.”

“Do I need to remind you what caused my weakness and how Lilith could deceive me?”

“That I refused to sleep with you because of your drinking? And let’s not forget your nasty side that always came out. Besides, there was nothing romantic about sleeping with a person who reeked like a brewery. You know what,” Cassandra waved him away. “Those days are long ago, and I paid a dear price because of you.”

“But you killed me,” Alberto said, and he sounded like a boy refusing to accept his wrongdoing—the same way he always did when he was alive—when the marriage was no longer a marriage, but a mistake that needed to be corrected.

“My God,” Cassandra shouted. “Are we going to stand here trading blame? We did enough of that when you were alive, and I was sick of it then, and I’m sick of it now. Honestly, I’m going back home and for all I care, this goddamn place could sink straight down to hell.”

“If that’s your choice, then let it be, but remember you had the chance to destroy her, and you went the easy way.”

“There was no easy way. Goddamn you for bringing this bitch once again into my life. Why do I have to suffer from your weaknesses? It destroyed my entire life, and now it seemed whatever I could salvage, I will suffer the same way again.”

A silence overtook her mind, and it was eerie enough to make Cassandra believe her dead husband vanished. Again, she couldn’t help thinking all this was, was a hallucination created by a haunting past that kept exposing all the mistakes committed back then. Or even worse, all this craziness was the product of the drugs they poured down her throat when they dragged her into that horrible madhouse after she revealed the true story of Alberto’s killing ways. “Why the fuck am I here?” Cassandra blurted out.

“You know why you’re here,” Alberto was back, not in her mind, but in front of her in his disgusting, rotten way. “Not one day went by without you thinking of the what ifs that rammed into your mind. You hated yourself for not ending it, for ignoring the changes I was going through while the demon was consuming my mind… eating my soul piece by piece. You felt responsible for most of the deaths of all those young girls back then. Even if you’re trying to deny it, it’s still the same guilt you feel now. And you, my dear wife, you know it must end with your hands. That’s why you’re here, Cassandra. None of this is a hallucination, not me, not the killings, and goddamn not the demon who’ll be getting stronger as the body count rises. We both know the more embryos—the fresh souls—she devours, her transformation to a human form will be closer to completion. And then what, Cassandra? Who will stop her then? She’ll be free to move around, travel from one end of the world to the other. Millions of young girls will die, for this demon is a vampire and the blood she craves is inside the innocent souls of embryos. That’s what lies out there in front of you, and unless she’s destroyed while she’s still trapped—still weak—the blood spilled from now on will be on your hands.”

Cassandra knew Alberto was right, not one night went by without her agonizing, and what if she had done something sooner? How many lives would she have saved? But you cannot undo what has happened in the past. It’s what’s in front of her that needed her attention, and Alberto was right—if this demonic bitch became human-like; who was going to stop her? She faced Alberto, no longer bothered by his appearance, and stared at his cold, dead eyes.

“For once, let’s put our differences aside. This bickering is not helping the situation. You brought me here for a reason, so if you have these powers now that you’re dead, use them to guide me in finding her. I know she’s holed inside that building that I swore I would never set foot inside. But, if it means saving innocent lives, show me the way and let’s end this now!”

CHAPTER 30

“There’s a storm brewing, my little man, and it’s coming this way. Will you protect Momma?” Lilith said as she traced her index finger around Mike’s nipple with the fresh blood from the bites on his chest. Mike moaned at Lilith's caresses. They both laid naked on a cot Mike had rolled inside the room, which was now his pleasure room. He could have never imagined in his wildest dreams he would experience the type of uninhibited coitus he was encountering with Lilith. “There’s an evil woman who wants to hurt me,” Lilith cooed while nibbling on Mike’s ear. “We don’t like each other and because of her, I can’t leave this building. Now, my little man, where would you take me if I could go out? I love to dance. Would you take me dancing? One thing I know, every man will be jealous of you. Imagine, little Micky, every place we’ll go their envious stares will follow each step we take.”

“You want me to kill her?” Mike asked, a tremble in his voice.

“No, sweetie, I can do that on my own, besides I need her more alive than dead,” Lilith said as she slid from the cot and walked to the center of the room. “What I want you to do is feed me the nourishment I need to get rid of this woman, and then I’ll be free to dance the night away with you forever. We’ll travel the world, and you, my little man, I’ll give you immortality. You would like that, right?”

Raising her hands over her head, Lilith clapped, moving her head from side to side while gyrating her hips. Her dark eyes, enticing Mike to feast on her body—coated in beads of sweat—making it shine like gold. With her arms stretched out towards Mike, she rotated her voluptuous body, each pirouette accentuated her sexuality. Mike swung his feet off the cot, and sitting on the edge, reached out and touched Lilith’s body. Her flesh was hot, and it filled Mike with uncontrollable desires. Sliding his hand up to her breast, Mike squeezed her nipples as green fluid squirted out from them. He went to his knees as Lilith caressed each breast, then placed them on his open mouth, and fed him her milk. Hungrily, Mike drank with desperation, as Lilith’s body fluid ran through his chin and, like a starved man, he passed his hands over his face, making sure that he wasted not one drop.

“Feed from me, my little man—go on, feed from me. Get your strength and go out tonight and bring me the souls of ten unborn, for the battle this woman wants will be one she’ll regret when the Devil, my beloved father, rejoices her with anguish and pain. Go on, my little man, drink and soon paradise will be ours!”

*****

The chill in the air announced to Cassandra that winter was coming, and unless she finished this demon-slaying-business soon, she was going to need something heavier than the thin jacket she was wearing. Not that she was planning to stay here longer than she had to. Still, that was no reason to walk around freezing her butt off.

Thankfully, since she left the house, Alberto had been quiet, and that was a welcome relief for Cassandra, for it seemed death didn’t steal away his constant yapping and belief that every second he must fill it with his voice. Despite that silence, she felt his presence, and it bothered her that now more than ever, Alberto was part of her like a goddamn disease. To make matters worse, she suspected her thoughts were an open book for him, and even though she hated that part of this unorthodox arrangement, she knew she couldn’t escape it if she expected to end this nightmare once and for all. The plan that Alberto came up with was simple, and the way he explained it, she had to agree it made sense. They both knew Lilith was inside the building—captive—which only meant she didn’t have the freedom to invade the dreams of men at random. They had to come to her to be deceived. Narrowing it down to the fact Lilith’s slaves must be men who lived inside the building or had easy access to go in and out as they pleased, the logical thing to do was monitor who came in and out. Knowing, and truthfully not surprised, that her first slave was the handyman in the building—it made sense that the next lackey to follow was living there as well.

The brisk walk was pleasant for her. It allowed her to feel more in control, instead of being holed up inside a room that now—just like the hotel—was like living in a holding cell. Furthermore, Thomas and Louise, just like the staff at the hotel in their nice little warm conversations, discreetly attempted to get more details about her life. Perhaps it was the boredom that consumes older retirees when there’s not much to do, which made them think they had carte blanche to mingle in people’s affairs. Already, a few times during the morning while sharing a cup of coffee, Louise had mentioned, or more clearly, gossiped about, the other tenant, whom Cassandra was yet to meet. It was on the borderline of viciousness that left Cassandra wondering if this sweet, grandmotherly behavior was merely an act.

“Imagine what she’s saying about you?” Alberto chimed in.

“Fuck off out of my head,” Cassandra said, her anger boiling. “I don’t know if it’s possible for you to stop eavesdropping when I’m thinking but do me a favor; unless I addressed my thoughts to you, stay the fuck out of them.”

“Your feistiness seems to have grown much greater after all these years,” Alberto said with a hint of a laugh.

“A lot of stuff has grown since then, especially the one about not missing you.”

“Ouch, you really don’t pull any punches… well, I saw that firsthand when I was still part of the picture.”

“We’re here now,” Cassandra said, ignoring his remarks as she stopped at the corner of Queens Boulevard and Forty-Seven Street and looked down the block. Evening shadows were settling, and in the next hour the lampposts throughout the area would turn on. With her eyes fixed on the building, Cassandra walked on the opposite side of the street, not sure where she was going to stop to keep watch for any men who either exited or entered the building. Besides, not having a clear picture of who she was looking for, she had to trust her intuition. When the plan developed, she had hoped Alberto could provide characteristics of who might be the slave, but he quickly insisted that he couldn’t. This baffled her, and led her to believe that he was lying, and such thoughts she tried to erase from her mind before Alberto would notice. It would be like giving the battle plan to your opponent before the war begins.

Diagonally across from the building on Forty-Third Avenue was a house with large trees, with tilted branches forming a canopy-like structure. Acknowledging that it was the perfect spot, Cassandra set up camp there. It gave her a perfect view of who went in or out and kept her well-hidden. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she went deeper into the tree enclosure—damn, Cassandra thought, she needed a warmer coat.

*****

“Well, we don’t need a warrant to stake this motherfucker all day and night if that’s the case,” Alex said as Taylor made a right turn on Vernon Boulevard, drove to Forty Ninth Avenue, and into Skillman Avenue. “There’s something going on inside that building. Brother, I should have pistol-whipped that midget-ass prick.”

“He became over-protective when we wanted to see the basement.” Taylor said as he stopped at the light. “It was like talking to two different people the way he became hostile. I see that type of behavior mostly among animals protecting the young ones.”

“By the way, I spoke to Nikki—”

“Hmmm, professional or personally, or a little of both,” Taylor smiled and winked at Alex.

“Strictly professional.”

“I hear you, if you want to play hard to get, it might work.”

“Come on, brother. Can we be serious here for at least a second?”

“Okay, I’ll behave,” Taylor raised his hand, and his smile grew larger. “You got the floor.”

“I’m still freaked out about it, but she made me swear I need to keep this quiet and tell no one,” Alex shook his head. “But I don’t think she meant you.”

“Okay, I get it, just spit it out, man,” Taylor waved one hand at Alex.

“Nikki took samples of the saliva from both the human bite on his bicep and the huge animal-like on his face. Do you fucking believe that both saliva examples are identical? Made from the same mouth.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Yep, that’s what Nikki also said. That’s why she examined the samples more than once. And both tests came back with the same results. Now here’s the kicker, the saliva is like nothing ever registered on Earth.”

“That could only mean that there’s two animals inside that basement. One is an adult, and the other one is—”

“No, no, Taylor, you are not listening or you’re refusing to hear what I’m telling you. The saliva is from the bites, but one comes from a human-like sized mouth, the other was from a humongous mouth. Yet, according to her samples, it’s the same… beast or whatever, that killed that man. But the craziest shit is, they did complete research and nothing in any existing data on this Earth matches the saliva.”

“Come on, Alex, I know where you’re taking this, and I’m too old to be believing in ghost stories. You’ll see, we are going to find some type of rare snake, maybe from somewhere in the Amazon or some remote jungle, and that’s what this bastard was keeping inside his home, and it backfired on his ass.”

“Okay, so let’s say I believe in your theory. But why was he out there killing pregnant girls and only taking the embryos? What the hell? Are these snakes so fucking finicky that rats are not good enough for them? Plus, as Nikki noted, there was no snakeskin found. And let’s not forget that no one found an enormous cage inside. ¡Nada!”

“Maybe they don’t shed. Like I said, maybe is some newly found snake that its skin is like ours. It stretches the fatter they get.”

“Brother, what you just said… come on, you know damn right you don’t even believe that shit.”

“You’ll see,” Taylor waved a finger at Alex. “After we’re finished with this, we’re going to have a logical reason.”

“Okay, so answer me this. If this is a badass-never-discovered-snake with a few offspring, this fool was all for letting them feed from him until they killed his ass? And, on top of all that, he was feeding from them some green shit that contaminated his blood? And after he died, another asshole inside that building couldn’t wait to follow this dead man’s footsteps? Now, that’s fucking far-fetched in my book.”

“What are we talking about here? That we’re going to need a modern-day Van Helsing to crack this case open?”

“Who’s Van Helsing?” Alex asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

“Professor Abraham Van Helsing, the man who went after Dracula in the novel written by Bram Stoker.”

“I don’t get it,” Alex said, now even more confused than ever, which usually happened when talking to Taylor.

“You mean you never read Dracula in school?”

“How many times must I tell you, my mother raised me by strict Pentecostal guidelines? Anything resembling the teachings of the Devil was taboo in my house. Did you know that when they began Sex Education in my Junior High School, I spent that period in the Principal’s Office?”

“Aha, that’s why it didn’t work out between you and Nikki? Lack of much needed knowledge?”

“Damn, for someone who fancies himself as an educated man, you can really be an asshole sometimes,” Alex said, shaking his head, yet a smile spread across his lips.

“Okay, I deserve that one,” Taylor laughed and slapped Alex’s arm. “But going back to Dracula, you mean to tell me you never even saw the universal classic monster movies growing up?”

“Nope.”

“What about as an adult?”

“Nope.”

“Never mind, sorry they wasted your good childhood sheltered and deprived of all the good stuff,” Taylor said with a grin as he drove the car past the elevated train tracks and stayed on Skillman Avenue. A few blocks down, he made a short right into Forty-Third Avenue. “All I’m saying is, I will not raise my hand and declare that all these killings result from some supernatural nonsense. Jesus, of all people, you Alex, after telling me your rigid religious upbringing, you are letting yourself be led into believing that all this is a boogeyman from out of space. And really, Nikki, the woman who has more titles than a room full of the Royal Family, she’s feeding you all this junk and you’re feasting on it like McDonald’s fries!”

“Listen, brother, when you’re hitting a dead-end street since day one of this case, it gets to where you need to think out of the box.”

“This is not thinking out of the box, this is more like a desperate quarterback throwing a Hail Mary pass and hoping one of his guys catches the pass and wins the game.”

“But many games were won by Hail Mary,” Alex said. “It made Doug Flutie a household name.”

“Flutie who?” Taylor laughed,

“Anyway,” Alex shook his head and glanced around the neighborhood. “To show you I’m not waiting for a spaceship to come and pick up Evil E.T., I called, and I spoke to one of the old detectives who was part of that investigation twenty years ago.”

“My man was a busy bee today. Taxpayers should be happy on your productive day,” Taylor said. “But one quick question, is he also part of this, I don’t know, new cult of crime fighters that believe besides our guns, we also need to carry a sharp wooden stake?”

“Don’t forget the silver bullet,” Alex smirked.

“Of course, don’t leave home without it!”

“Now please listen to this,” Alex cracked the window open. “He wants to meet up with us, and talking to him about it, it sounds like he was just like you twenty years ago. He refused to believe in the woman’s story, didn’t even give it one second thought, as he called it, “the mumble-jumble-bullshit-of-voodoo”. But, after what he saw about five years ago, during a spree of killings, in these same fucking streets, it made him believe that there’s more shit out there than the plain old cops and robbers’ situation.”

“You mean the homeless man that went on a killing rampage?” Taylor asked as he pulled over a hydrant on Forty-Six Street and turned off the ignition. “What was so supernatural about that?”

“We’ll find out when we speak to him. Won’t we?” Alex said as he straightened and unsnapped his seat belt. Lowering the window, he poked his head out and spotted a woman standing a few feet away from them. “Hey, Taylor, do you still have a copy of the composite drawing of the mystery woman from the bar?”

“Yeah, inside the glove compartment,” Taylor said, stretching his neck to work the kinks out. “Why?”

Finding the drawing, Alex slipped it out and took a long look, then poking his head back out the window. “Are my eyes playing tricks on me or does that woman over there look exactly like the drawing.”

“I’ll be damned,” Taylor let out a whistle as he switched from the composite sketch to the woman outside. “That old man gave our artist a perfect description. That’s the same woman from the bar. Our famous Mystery Woman.”

“Let’s drive by, and when we get close, I’ll call out her name,” Alex said. “If she turns, which is human instinct to turn when you hear your name, we’ll know we’ve hit payday. Brother, I think this is going to be an interesting night.”

*****

Standing by the roof’s edge, Mike stared down at the streets below him. It was a perfect view of the entire area, and now that the lampposts were coming on, his visibility was even better. Lilith’s instruction was that by the time morning came, he must have ten embryos inside the jar. She didn’t have to say or else, Mike knew better. Lilith’s commands, that’s how he saw them, added a certain stress to the task, yet the rewards he’d be getting were worth it. At first, the guilt tried to consume him, but for the first time in his life, he felt in control. Yes, Mike knew his thoughts were contradicting each other. On one hand, Lilith was controlling him, but in bed, he felt he was controlling her. Whatever he wanted, she gave in with no qualms about it. It was not like his wife, that even to get laid, he needed to go through so many hoops, when at the end it was not even worthwhile. His wife’s sexual prowess was as exciting as reciting the grocery list of monks. It was the opposite of Lilith. There was nothing beneath her—she did anything his perverted heart desired. Not even the hookers he frequently went to were as willing as Lilith, and that simple reflection made Mike smile. Absentmindedly, he stroked his groin, anticipating the mind-boggling sexual encounter with Lilith after he brought her what she wanted. Lifting the hood of his jacket over his head, he first touched the jar in his left pocket, then he tapped the knife on his right. He took a deep breath of the night air and kept it inside his mouth for ten seconds, then slowly exhaled. He turned and walked across the roof, opened the door, and hurried down the stairs. It was time to hunt for Lilith.

*****

Cassandra passed her hands over her arms more frequently. She was feeling much colder as the night fell. She glanced at her watch and realized it’d been over half an hour and so far, it looked like the plan that had appeared to be a great one was materializing into a waste of time. Children or ladies accompanied the few men who had entered the building or merely came down to throw away the garbage and go back inside. She took another look at her watch, and while trying to decide what to do, she suddenly remembered the layout of the courtyard and with that came an icy panic that plunged into her guts. Damn, how stupid can I be? Why should a killer come out through the front door when he could easily slip in and out through the back entrance and go across the courtyard to the other street? She had positioned herself on the wrong spot, and now convinced that he went out through the back, Cassandra hurried and as soon as she was near the corner of Forty-Eighth Street, she saw a man crossing the street. For no other reason, but reacting to her instinct, she followed him. From what she could see, he was wearing a baggy jacket with the hood covering his face, and both hands dug inside his pockets. It had to be him, she almost shouted out as she jogged, trying to catch up to him. From her point of view, she saw how he kept slowing down whenever a young woman was near him, and if Cassandra didn’t know any better, it was as if he was reading them—analyzing them.

“He’s searching for those who are expecting,” Alberto’s voice invaded her mind. “There’s an aura that surrounds every living person, and it differentiates in colors based on the emotional and physical element of each person. A pregnant woman’s aura is unique, and that’s what he’s concentrating on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I also had the vision when she enslaved me. Just because she’s trapped, it doesn’t stop her from projecting her essence into the outside world. Call it astral projection, or whatever you desire, the bottom line is, is that she’s always in control. She infused her eyes with the slave’s own eyes.”

“Is she still controlling you? Or are you completely free from her powers?”

“You were always the doubter. Now, if I was, would I be here helping you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Cassandra said as she saw the hooded man crossed the avenue and stop short as he spotted a girl getting off a cab. “This conversation will have to wait; I need to concentrate here.”

She hurried her pace and when arriving at the corner, she watched the girl walking towards the alleyways between the Sunnyside Garden homes. When she moved here, Cassandra had loved those passageways. They added a certain nostalgic touch to the area and during the summer months, the greenery and colorful flowers filled the neighborhood with a small-town coziness. But after Jenny Kessler’s death, those same picturesque alleys now held her in apprehension. Dodging cars that suddenly swamped the road, Cassandra became frustrated when she lost sight of both the girl and the hooded man. Finally getting across, she ran into the alleyway’s entrance, and it was empty. Maybe he had dragged her inside one of the small yards that lined the alleyway, and as she was about to pursue that option when, from behind, someone called out her name. She froze and looked over her shoulder as two men approached her, their badges in front of them like shields.

*****

“Good evening, Ms. Quiñonez. Can we have a word with you?” Alex said, blocking her path, while Taylor positioned himself on her right side.

“I’m sorry, but you must have the wrong person.”

“Really? That’s funny, you turned mighty quick when I called the name out.”

“You just startled me,” Cassandra said, her mind rambling at full speed. “Now if you don’t mind, can you please get out of my way.”

“Not before you answer a few questions,” Alex came closer. “I’m sure whatever or wherever you’re going, it can wait. How’s this? After a little chat, if we’re convinced that we stopped the wrong person, our apologies to you, and we’ll be more than glad to move out of the way.”

“This is harassment.” Cassandra glanced at the length of the alley. “Don’t you two have anything better to do but stop a person who’s doing nothing wrong, but just walking?”

“Let’s say you’re a person of interest who we need a few words with.” Taylor answered.

“A person of interest? You got to be kidding me. Are you accusing me of something? If you are not, I would appreciate if you would please move aside.”

“Lady, let me show you something,” Alex said as he unfolded the composite sketch and gave it to her.

Refusing to take it, Cassandra still stared at it. She tried not to show it, but they had shocked her. “Okay, there’s some resemblance, but what does it have to do with me?”

“A lot,” Alex said as he folded the sketch and slipped it back in his pocket. “Does the name Jenny Kessler ring a bell?”

“Only what I have heard in the news,” Cassandra tried to look over Alex, not believing she was getting questioned while at the same time another girl was probably being killed.

Turning around, Alex followed her gaze, then turned his attention back to Cassandra. “Anyplace in particular you were heading to? You’re mighty interested in this alleyway. Why is that?”

“Is there a new law that prohibits a person from taking a walk through an open space?”

“Ms. Quiñonez—”

“And by the way,” Cassandra cut Alex off. “I don’t even know to whom I have the displeasure of talking to. Is that also a new police protocol, harass citizens without introducing themselves first?”

“We apologize for our manners, Ms. Quiñonez, but showing you our badges should have been enough,” Taylor said, flashing his badge again. “Still, you’re right, I’m Detective Taylor Brandon and this is Detective Alex Munro.”

“So now that we have formally introduced ourselves, can I ask again, what do you know about Jenny Kessler?” Alex asked.

Biting her lip to prevent her anger from coming through, Cassandra brushed the hair away from her forehead. “Only what millions of people have learned from the news.”

“I beg to differ, ma’am,” Taylor said as he removed a small pad from his breast pocket and began leafing through the pages. “To our understanding, you saw Jenny before thousands saw her picture the next morning in the news. Can you please answer my partner’s question?”

“I didn’t know the girl, but I saw her at the bar the night he killed her. Does that make me a suspect? And if it does, are you stopping everyone who was there that night.”

Alex exhaled loudly and shook his head. “Lady, why are you stonewalling us? All we are trying to do is stop more innocent girls from getting killed. And something tells me that there’s a lot you know that might help us out. A bit of cooperation is all we are asking. Is that too much to ask?”

Cassandra took turns in looking at each detective, knowing that unless she gave them a bone, for sure they were going to make her life a living hell. She already had enough of her share of angry cops and menacing interrogating rooms. Brushing her hair away from her forehead, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “That night, I was at the pub where Jenny and a bunch of other girls were having some sort of celebration, which, of course, now we know why. There was a man sitting at the bar, who was staring at them in a way that disturbed me. Of course, after seeing the pictures of the murderer, he was the same man I saw that night. He was keeping a close eye on her throughout the night. When I noticed that both Jenny and this man were no longer in the bar, I became worried and I tried to go after them, but the owner of the pub stopped me.”

“To our understanding of eyewitness, you tried to walk out without paying.”

“I was trying to save the girl’s life for God's sakes! I bet they didn’t tell you I paid them more than I should have.”

“I don’t really care how much you paid them, but how did you know she needed to be safe? Are you psychic?”

“Lord Jesus, no I’m not. Just concerned then, as I am now that this is not over because Jenny’s killer is dead.”

“Do you mind elaborating more about your sudden intuitions?” Taylor asked, flipping the notepad to a new page.

Cassandra let out a long and frustrated breath. “Never mind how I know, but right now I’m trying to save another girl from getting slaughtered, but you guys are here conducting an illegal interrogation, while the killer is maybe at this moment cutting a poor girl’s stomach out.”

“And you know that for sure?” Alex asked.

“I’m not sure,” Cassandra sighed. “But you must believe me. When you stopped me, I was following a man who was going after a young girl. As young as Jenny.”

“Can you describe him?” Taylor asked as he slipped his pad back into his breast pocket.

“I didn’t see him that close. Besides, he was wearing a coat with a hood.”

“If you see him again, can you recognize him?” Taylor pressed, as the information of a man wearing a hood brought images of the first killer.

“Definitely!”

“Which way did he go?”

“I’m not sure. I lost them for a second, but I think the girl was walking towards the alleyway.”

“Do you mind taking a ride with us? We’ll circle the neighborhood and see if you see him again?”

Cassandra hesitated for a second, but after taking a long look down the narrow alley, she agreed and allowed herself to be escorted to their car.

“In the meantime, are you Cassandra Quiñonez?” Alex asked as he opened the back door of the car.

“Yes, I am.”

“And why are you back in this neighborhood? According to your file, your last address is in Pennsylvania.”

“There is some unfinished business I must attend to. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but after we find this monster and have him lead us to the actual monster who’s responsible for the killings.”

“Humor me, Ms. Quiñonez. What were you planning to do tonight if you came across this killer? Are you armed?” Alex asked.

“No, I’m not.”

“Are you some heroine with superpowers? You know, like Supergirl? Wonder-Woman?”

“Please sir, do not patronize me or mock me, it’s not becoming for a police officer.”

“I’m a Detective, I stopped been a police officer a long time ago.”

“Very well,” Cassandra stared at Alex. “In that case, start acting like one.”

Alex winced, and Taylor chuckled softly as he put the car in drive.

As they cruised around the neighborhood, Taylor’s phone rang, which he was thankful for since it broke the tension in the car. He knew Alex was losing his shirt on this conversation with Cassandra. She was a piece of work all right, feisty, and her demeanor was of a person who didn’t take shit from anybody. He listened closely to the voice on the other end of his cell. It was from headquarters—they had just found the body of a young girl, and it was only a few blocks from where they were. He lowered his head. It was like getting hit by a sledgehammer, and somehow, he felt they were responsible for this death. Maybe Cassandra was in pursuit of the killer when they stopped her, and if she was, this young girl’s blood was on their hands.

Alex saw the look on his partner’s face, and he knew it wasn’t pleasant news. He waited for Taylor to get off the phone and before he could ask, Taylor spoke. And it was in a cryptic tone.

“Two blocks down, someone walking his dog came across a dead girl.”

Alex turned around and glanced at Cassandra, who was looking at them with hatred in her accusing eyes.

CHAPTER 31

From the safety of the diner, Mike sipped on a cup of coffee and watched the squad cars and ambulances rush by, their sirens slicing through the night. One down, nine to go, or probably more. Lilith said ten, but she never said she would be angry if he brought her a little bonus. He licked his lips and placed the cup down. He’d wait ten more minutes and would take an enjoyable walk back to Forty-Eighth Street, then he’d follow that road across Northern Boulevard and into Astoria. While everyone was frantically searching for him in Sunnyside, he’d be across town. To keep them off-balance, Mike figured he’d crisscross through Queens, and when the night was over, it would display the incompetence of the NYPD for everyone to see, and Lilith would realize she found had the golden goose in him.

He tapped the jar through his pocket and wondered how many embryos he could squeeze inside, plus, knowing that Lilith demanded the embryo to be over ten weeks old—which was the size of a strawberry—Mike was sure over ten could easily fit in the milk jar. Why this dirty and cracked jar was beyond his understanding, but he wasn’t here to question Lilith, rather to please her.

Pushing away from the table, he drank the last drops of the coffee and placed the cup down, all the time watching the street outside. He could imagine everyone who needed to be at the scene of the crime was already there, and he bet the two bozo detectives were there as well. Would this killing make them more eager to not only speak to him, but to get access to the basement? Of course, that was going to be their priority, so after tonight, he needed to stay alert and be smart. He took one last look before exiting the diner, and satisfied that the coast was clear, he walked slowly; nothing to attract attention, merely a person taking an evening stroll before returning home for a good night's sleep. Finally arriving at Northern Boulevard, Mike went across the traffic jammed lanes and moved into Steinway Street. It was a shopping area that attracted many shoppers, along with the partygoers on their way to the pubs and eateries that lined the packed sidewalks. It was the perfect spot for Mike to blend into the crowd and allow him to search for his next victim, which didn’t take too long as he spotted another young pregnant girl. She was part of a group of women coming out from a restaurant, and hesitating, Mike stayed away from them. Usually, groups like this would separate and go their own way, and Mike banked that the one whose aura was directing him to her, would detach from the others. Pretending to be window shopping, he kept a decent pace behind them and, finally, his diligence found its reward. After many goodbyes, hugs, and kisses, the young girl waved at the group and, letting out a carefree laugh, walked by herself in the direction of the Steinway Subway entrance. Mike followed, staying a few feet away, and as he went down the stairs, he smiled—soon he’d be adding another strawberryto the jar.

*****

Hunched over and with his forehead resting on the steering wheel, Taylor was numb. This one hurt the most, for he felt responsible for it. To her credit, Cassandra had remained quiet in the backseat, perhaps stunned as well, but Taylor damn well knew what was in her mind. She didn’t have to be vocal; it showed on her angry face. Alex opened the passenger door and sat down. His body language said it all, and it started with the word ‘defeated’.

All three of them were silent, their faces bathed in colors from the light-bars atop the cruisers and other emergency vehicles. Maybe this time the judge would approve the search warrant, but Taylor still had his doubts. There was no sufficient evidence to go after the superintendent, even with Cassandra’s weak description of a man wearing a hood. There was not enough to go by—and if they tried with what they had, they would be laughed out of the judge’s chamber.

“So now what, are you guys going to sit here and do nothing?” Cassandra asked, and her words came out like curses and harsh accusations.

“You know, lady,” Alex snapped back, and Taylor straightened up and placed one hand on his partner’s shoulder. Alex brushed it off as he turned around and pointed at Cassandra. “I’ve had enough of your shit. How the hell are you connected to all these killings? You appeared from nowhere and the first girl gets killed. Not only were you in the same place as the girl was, but the killer was there too. Now we find you here, with some cock-and-bull-story about some man you were going after, a fucking hooded boogeyman, and in no time, they killed another girl. The same way your husband was killing them twenty years ago. Now, what’s wrong with this picture? That’s it, we’re fucking bringing you in, lady.”

“Under what charges, Detective?” Cassandra asked, her voice angry and defiant.

“Enough!” Taylor shouted. “Lady, my partner is right. There are too many coincidences here, and something doesn’t add up, but you’re right. We have no charges to bring you in, but let me tell you, I know you are part of this. I do not know how, but I’ll assure you I will find out. And God help you if you—”

“Detective,” Cassandra raises her voice, shutting down Taylor. “I know it looks bad, but if you think I’m an accomplice to these killers, you’re wrong.”

“Why are you here? Why did you come back to New York, to your old neighborhood, and the second you appeared, all hell comes with you? Do we have a copycat on our hands, and you have an idea of who he is? Ma’am, do you see the picture through our eyes?”

“Detectives,” Cassandra leaned back on the backseat and looked straight out into the chaotic scene in front of them. “I told you before that I’m here for some unfinished business—”

“And what the fuck is that unfinished business?” Alex exploded.

“Please let me speak,” Cassandra raised one hand to Alex. “Do you guys believe in evil?”

“We see it all the time,” Taylor answered. “It’s part of our job.”

“I don’t mean plain evil from common criminals. I mean the type of evil that is not part of this world.”

“Please, I don’t want to hear none of this supernatural nonsense,” Taylor’s words came out exasperated.

“Well, it is,” Cassandra said with assertiveness. “It started twenty years ago when a demon possessed my husband, controlling him—making him a killer. I thought I had trapped the bitch, but somehow, she escaped, and now she’s back—angrier—more determined to finish what she started and that’s becoming more human by eating unborn souls. That, gentlemen, is what’s going on, and the sooner we find this man, we can’t apprehend him, but follow him. Then we’ll find the actual killer.”

Taylor laughed, and as he shook his head, he looked at Cassandra through the rear-view mirror. Yet, seeing Cassandra’s stoic face, he turned around to face her. “You’re serious about this? You expect us to believe in this crap?”

“I believe her,” Alex said, taking a quick glance at Cassandra. “I keep remembering how the first killer was practically eaten alive, and they found nothing inside that basement. Then the negative results that came back from the lab, brother. There’s no other explanation but what this woman is talking about. Dude, if you believe in Jesus… then you must believe in Satan as well.”

Before Taylor could debate Alex’s comment, his phone rang, and looking at the screen, he groaned—it was from headquarters. He listened, a few nods and after saying ‘we got it’, he threw the cell phone on top of the dashboard. Passing his hand over his head, he then cursed. “Motherfucker,” he shook his head at Alex. “Jesus, my Lord, they’ve found another girl killed. Same fucking way.”

“Where?” Alex asked, snapping his seatbelt on.

“Steinway Street… on the subway platform.”

CHAPTER 32

It was an overwhelming stench—a mixture of sweat, blood, feces, and sweet perfume. Through the serene, dark streets of the early dawn, Mike was beyond fatigued, and his steps had taken on the mannerism of a drunk. He was intoxicated—not by the strength of alcohol, but with the potency the killings lavished him with. Yes! There was a certain vigor rushing through his veins, which made him feel like a god. With every embryo he stuffed inside the jar, a jolt ran through him, like a high voltage of electricity that could have easily lit up thousands of Times Squares during thousands of New Year’s Eves. Mike had never felt this invigorated, nor even came close to imagining it, but here he was, the pillar of power, and all this magnificent euphoria he credited to Lilith. Mike took a deep breath, inhaling the pronunciation of her name—Lilith—and in anticipation, he savored the second she would wrap him in her arms the moment he’d place upon her beautiful feet the bounty he had collected for her. Dreamily, he stroked his crotch, and a twitch of a perverted smile curved his lips into a delirious clown’s grin.

Coming to an intersection where Northern Boulevard crisscrossed with Broadway, Mike came to a halt and took a breather. From the surrounding trees, he listened to the chirping of birds, and their quick movements rustling the leaves, announcing that soon the everyday hustle and bustle would be upon him, which meant he needed to rush back to Lilith. He didn’t recall looking at them all night long, but now perhaps for the first time, Mike surveyed his hands. There was an awful lot of hurting on them, and most of his fingers were swollen with many slashes that still bled. As far as he could tell, they were merely superficial cuts. However, they were noticeable gashes that he knew would force him to wear gloves for the next few weeks until they healed. He couldn’t afford to have prying eyes taking questioning glimpses of his lacerated hands. Holding on to the lamppost, he looked up at the street sign and made a mental judgement of how far he was from home, and after calculating the distance, he knew it was still a long way to go. The thought of jumping on the train, or even a bus, to get home quicker came into play, but in his condition, he knew that would be a big mistake. Mike was conscious of the unspeakable smell that rose from his body, and the few times he took quick glances at his reflection on storefront large windows, it troubled him how he looked; that was like a deranged killer.

Once more, his actions from the long night still rumbled in his head, like residues of a vivid and wild dream. There were moments as he walked through the isolated streets, he felt like a bodiless phantom. He wanted to believe that, but reality, in its own merciless way, reminded him that everything he committed last night was no mirage. And the most twisted aspect of it all was that he truly found himself enjoying every last breath each young girl took. Perhaps the joy that fueled him was how pleased Lilith would be when she saw the jar stuffed to the rim with warm embryos. Carefully, Mike took the jar out of his pocket and admired it. All smeared in blood, and he counted again the strawberrieshe had gathered for her—twelve of them. He could not believe how unchallenging the killings had, and the ease of digging into the women’s stomach, ripping the small intestines out of the way, slicing the uterus open, and like a pearl in the center of an oyster, the embryo was there waiting for easy picking. He should have been a surgeon. Mike laughed as he continued his hurried walk. Leaving Northern Boulevard, he turned south and a few blocks ahead he saw the elevated train tracks that snaked through Roosevelt Avenue, and he nodded, for the long-haul home was nearly over.

For the millionth time, his cell phone vibrated, and much the same way he had done throughout the night, he ignored the incoming call. There was no need to bother. He already knew who it was, his wife. He understood her worries and why she had called so many times, but really, what was he going to tell her now? What type of explanation could he come up with to pacify her? That was the battle that was brewing in his head, and eventually he was going to face it, but now that he had Lilith, his wife was expendable. That’s what’s wrong with a woman like his wife, who becomes complacent, thinking that their lives are nice and set on the shoulders of what they consider their privilege—a goddamn docile husband. Over thirty years, he had subscribed to that point of view. The hard-working husband who comes home from work and asks for nothing but a cooked meal, a clean house, and a bland sex life, which Matilda cut down to once every two months. His frequent visit to prostitutes kept his sanity intact, but even that sex was as exciting as brushing your teeth. But now it was different. He had Lilith, and that woman, or whatever she was, was a dream come true to any sex deprived man. Besides, Lilith had given him the satisfying pleasure of killing for her, for he knew the treat he was going to be rewarded with. Her lust blinded him, and after a night like this one, it exhilarated him with the power that rushed through him—the powers that maybe a god or a devil could understand.

Coming around a corner, Mike spotted a group of men, mostly day laborers, looking for work, who stared at him as he went by. Two of them held their fingers to their noses, while a few said something in Spanish, which Mike didn’t understand. He walked faster, and hearing the laughter from the men, he knew that from now on he needed to be more prepared, more careful. Even though the shops along the sidewalks were closed, he knew soon he would stumble on those establishments that open early, like diners, or the grocery stores that stayed open twenty-four hours and seven days a week. If this was going to be his normal night—hunting for Lilith—he must be more prepared. He couldn’t afford to get sloppy and get caught, and with those thoughts tumbling in his head, he decided it would be ideal to get a few disposable coveralls—perhaps like the ones he saw the people who entered the basement wore. He nodded, as he noticed another conglomerate of men, again day laborers, and not wanting to experience the same reaction from the previous group, he crossed the street and took Woodside Avenue, which was a more residential area, and guaranteed him a more isolated neighborhood to walk through. Above him, the sky was lighter, and looking up ahead, he was glad that he was a good ten minutes away from home. A big smile spread across his face and expecting Lilith’s reaction when she saw the jar, Mike touched his crotch again, knowing that soon she would compensate him and the big fella.

CHAPTER 33

The coughing fit lasted for over ten minutes, and when it finally subsided, there were a few specks of blood on the tissue. It didn’t faze him anymore, and with a shrug, Harry balled up the tissue and threw it in the garbage can next to the desk. A collection of red dotted tissues had accumulated, and he bet the dots were going to get larger as the cancer slowly kept eating away at his insides. He hoped God would quicken his steps and kill him already, but lately Harry felt God was a sick individual, who loved nothing more than to see people suffer until their last, agonizing breath. And on the subject of God, where the hell was He, when a sicko was carving out young pregnant women and taking with him their embryos like gruesome trophies? Already one detective working on the case reached out to him, asking questions about something that had happened twenty years ago, and when you had nothing to do with your life, but wait for Mr. Death to whisk you away, you listened.

He had been keeping track of the news since four in the morning, and it was like watching the updates of a favorite marathon runner, which in every half-hour they reported how close the runner was getting to the finish line. Here was the rapidity of this monster, as if there was a timeline in his approach. Maybe there was. Harry considered that idea. Can this be a copycat killer following the protocol of another sicko’s murderous spree from twenty years ago? Back then, Harry wanted to believe that the killings were by a man living with dementia with psychological problems. However, after seeing with his own eyes on those same Sunnyside streets the powers of supernatural up close, it made him a believer that life was not all black and white—there’s a lot of awful grayness in this world. The bit Detective Munro told him was enough for Harry to be intrigued. Once a cop, always a cop. Plus, if some of his knowledge could apprehend this monster, then he was happy to help get the ball rolling, besides maybe the distraction would be the medicine he needed to keep his own monster subdued for a while.

He grabbed the pad he always kept by the phone where he wrote the Detective’s number, and when he was about to dial it, he placed the phone down and stared at it. Maybe he shouldn’t be too hasty. Who’s saying that after tonight’s bloodbath, maybe an outsider might not be the best guest to waltz in on a case, which Harry was sure was driving everyone into a frenzy. He remembered the last case he worked on, the one that made him a believer that the boogeyman exists. Everyone was short-tempered and a fresh face in the investigation caused fights and mistrust among everyone. Not every cop liked someone to walk into their close-knit group when a case was kicking their butts. It makes them look incompetent, and it’s not good for morale. If they want to speak to him, Harry reasoned, they know how to contact him. Once satisfied with his decision, Harry turned to the television, and the more he watched the news, the more astounded he became at the viciousness of the murderer. Still, what gnawed him the most was how this man was only targeting pregnant women who were at the early stage of their pregnancy. During this time of a pregnancy, there’s not even a noticeable bump to identify they were carrying a child. So how did he know? Harry shook his head, knowing damn well it was impossible unless, somehow, he was being guided. But by who? A mind reader? Another sicko like the bastard who was controlling homeless man to do his killings a few years back? Finding the remote, Harry shut off the set and stared at the phone again, and it startled him when it rang. On the second ring, he lifted the phone and listened.

“Hello sir, hope I didn’t catch you at a wrong time, this is Detective Alex Munro,” Alex said, and the man’s fatigue came out loud and clear, and Harry wondered when the last time was the detective had a good eight-hour sleep.

“No, you didn’t. I was about to call you. I guess you saved me a quarter.”

“Sir—”,

“Please, Harry will do. There’s no formality between guys in the same foxhole.”

“Okay, thank you,” Alex said. “I’m sure you know the reason for this call, and I bet you are aware of the handy work of this monster.”

“Yes, I’m aware; it has been the top ten-hit-song on the media. I’ll tell you, I know they must earn a living, but these news telecasts are making me sick… they’re loving this. It sells newspapers, and it sends the televisions ratings through the roof.”

“I guess, but Harry, I hate to sound pushy here, but that’s the least of our problems. Like you said, they are doing a job… just like us. So, you could say, we are all benefiting from these killings.”

“I like your style, Detective Munro—”

“Please Alex, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, of course, Alex. Now, were all twelve killings confirmed to be by the same person?”

“Yes… well, that’s what it looks like so far. Forensics are working hard to determine if they used the same knife, and they are also checking for blood samples. I’m hoping this bastard cut himself, or maybe one of his victims put up a hell of a struggle and scratched him, leaving skin and blood underneath her nails.”

“Where the hell are they breeding these demons?” Harry asked, but more to himself than to Alex. “The first bastard dies, and there’s another waiting, like a fucking relay runner waiting for the passing of the baton.”

“That’s right. Now sir… I mean Harry, the reason I’m calling is that we need your help.”

“Anything I can do, I’m here at your disposal.”

“Great. Thanks,” Alex said, and Harry could hear the noises that he knew so well in the background: the loud voices, the cracking of radios, which he will always associate with a squad room. “Harry, we have contacted Cassandra Quiñonez. You remember her?”

“After our last conversation, it jolted my head to remember. It’s hard to forget when I was the one who put the handcuffs on her and took her to the station. A tough woman. Lord, you could only imagine the many bruises all over her. Blood from head to toe. It was some battle that went inside that apartment. On our investigation during those days, most of the neighbors agreed it sounded like war. Now, I’m curious, did she come to you guys on her own?”

“We bumped into her early last night. She claimed she was after the killer. We questioned her right there on the street, and when we humored her and took a spin around the neighborhood to find this mystery man who she didn’t know, had never seen him, yet she convinced herself that it was the killer all right.”

“I gathered you didn’t find him but found his first victim of the night instead.”

“If only we had acted quicker in believing her story…” Alex stopped short on his words, the anger still sabotaging his insides. “This bastard would be behind bars right now, or with a fucking bullet between his eyes.”

“Alex don’t do that to yourself,” Harry said, knowing damn well how the detective was feeling. Anyone in law enforcement, eventually, would feel ambushed by what Alex was going through. “It’s part of the job, besides you guys were only going by the hearsay of a person who had already piqued your interest.”

“I guess you’re right, but until we catch this motherfucker, I won’t be able to rest, knowing that part of last night's bloodbath is on my own hands.”

“Can’t do that either. Don’t put the blame on yourself for the actions of a monster. Right now, you’re tired and let me give you some advice—a fatigued mind is not a sharp weapon in our job. You need to rest, go home, get some sleep. Get drunk, get laid, anything to take your mind off this case, because son, going on non-stop will not be any good to you, to your partner, or to this investigation.”

“Thank you, sir… I mean Harry. I appreciate that. Now, one last thing, and I apologize to be calling you so early. Do you think you’ll be able to meet up with us? You know, me and my partner. Although, I must be honest, my partner, Detective Brandon, refuses to believe that what we are dealing with is something beyond our normal way of thinking. He can be a stubborn-show-me-the-evidence kind of guy. I think he needs to hear it from someone who has been there before. You know… dealing with… what could be a supernatural act. I took the liberty of speaking with others who handled the homeless case… the case which you were involved in Sunnyside.”

“I see they still keep my name alive in the precinct, even if it’s unflatteringly,” Harry said. “I became the boogeyman expert. Did they mention that after the case was over, I was given two options? Either retire or take the midnight shift directing traffic on the Queensboro Bridge. At least I got a nice cake and a pair of slippers for my forty-plus years of service.”

“Harry, every man who I spoke to remembers your hard-nosed dedication to the job. You’re highly respected, and a few encouraged me to reach out to you.”

“Glad to hear that. Now, Alex, I would like to suggest…”

“I’m all ears, if it adds to the chances of ending this nightmare. What’s your suggestion?”

“To bring another person into our group.”

“And who, may I ask?”

“If you read the files on the last… as you put it, the one who helped us put the nightmareaway. I’m sure you know.”

“Wow… let me run that by my partner. That’s a decision we need to make together. I can’t ruffle his feathers, more than I already have.”

“Fair enough,” Harry said as he grabbed a tissue and coughed on it, and not bothering to see if the tissue was still white, he dumped it inside the garbage can. “Now at what time you want me there?”

“Around one, if that works for you. I’ll be more than happy to swing by and pick you up as well.”

“Thank you, but it’s all right. It’s been a while since I have taken a pleasant drive. The change of scenery will be nice. See you soon.”

“Excellent,” Alex said, and Harry couldn’t place a finger if what he heard in the man’s voice was happiness or relief. Then again, sometimes both emotions are interchangeable.

Placing the phone back in its cradle, Harry leaned back as he stiffened another coughing fit. “Eddie Santiago,” Harry said out loud. “Hope you’re doing well, my old Santero man. We need to talk.”

CHAPTER 34

“Ay Dios, they were babies,” Millie said to no one. With her eyes glued to the television screen, where they kept flashing the photographs of the twelve girls murdered the night before. “Pobrecitas,” she added as she crossed herself and went inside the kitchen.

Eddie Santiago lifted his head from his plate of Mangú, eggs, and Dominican salami, los tres golpes—the three hits—as the typical Dominican breakfast was commonly known. Millie was right; it was a shame about those girls’ deaths, and taking a sip of coffee, he stared at the smiling pictures on the early morning news—like some sickening lineup of players ready to start a sporting event. As he gathered from the telecast, not one was over the age of twenty-five, their youthful faces, frozen forever in time. With glumness, he watched as a reporter stood in a Sunnyside alleyway—a place Eddie recognized well—gave the gruesome details of the night’s massacre. Closing his eyes, he said a small prayer, the same way he had when they had announced the first murder. He listened closely. Although everyone decided—from the police to the media—killings were the product of a copycat. But Eddie didn’t buy such a premature conclusion, he felt it in his bones. The killers were nothing more than pawns. There was a mastermind behind it all, and as proven by the death of the first killer, it didn’t matter how many other murderers died. Unless they found the source, the killings would go on without missing a beat. Eddie opened his eyes again and stared at the television screen, at the smiling pictures. He tried to seek their voices but found only an empty space in the atmosphere. No longer hungry for the breakfast, Eddie pushed the plate away and finished his coffee.

Noticing that Eddie was getting ready to leave, Millie rushed to the table and pointed at the plate. “There are kids dying of hunger and you’re going to throw that away?” she said, taking the plate off the table. “You always leave the plate cleaner than when it comes out of the dishwasher. ¿Que paso? Are you sick? You’re not hungry? I know it’s not the food.”

“No, Millie, todo bien,” Eddie said. “I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was.”

“Well, let me pack it up. An hour from now you’re going to thank me.”

“Gracias, nena,” Eddie said, taking out his wallet. “But I’m not going straight home.”

Standing with the plate in her hand, Millie refused no for an answer. “I’ll put it away for you, and when you come back home, stop by, and pick it up. And put that wallet away. Tu no comiste na’—there’s no way you’re going to pay for what you didn’t eat. When you come back, then you’ll pay.”

Eddie knew that to win a battle with Millie was like trying to hit the Lottery—it would never happen. “Okay, I’ll do that, but I don’t know when I’ll be back. It might be late.”

“No te apure,” Millie held the plate now with both hands. “Y te digo,there’s nothing better than leftover Mangú… have it with white rice, y mi’jo, it’s like having a gourmet dinner.”

Eddie nodded and, offering a weak smile, stepped out from the restaurant. It was good to be outside, for the faces of those murdered girls suffocated him to the point he couldn’t breathe. Even the smell and sight of food nauseated him. His stomach clenched and the urge to throw up arose violently. Thankfully, now in the open air, he sensed the confused spirits of those girls orbiting aimlessly in the vastness where the crossroads between here and the afterlife met. All twelve of them clinging to each other, mourning not for their own death, but the destruction of their babies, and their little souls trapped now in the horrible bowels of evilness. Eddie heard their cries, solemn supplications, which they all felt were not reaching God’s ears, and even worse, they had ripped apart their trust for Him. Reeling backward, his legs wobbled, and quickly Eddie reached out to the lamppost to avoid from crashing onto the sidewalk. He stood there, his arm wrapped tightly around the metal post, embracing each girls’ spirits one by one, and assuring them he would help them. He opened his heart, welcoming them to seek shelter and comfort within his bosom. Reluctantly they came to him, slowly, and Jenny Kessler lead them all. They sensed the goodness in him, his strength, yet puzzled because even though Eddie was among the living, they knew he was also part of their new world. Eddie detected their existence in him, and he embraced them all, but a tremble consumed Eddie, which barely kept him on his feet. He held on to the lamppost with both arms, as each spirit floated towards him like moths drawn to a light. He felt their bafflement, which slowly turned into a glow of happiness and trust, and cautiously, each of them settled within him. Eddie soothed them with the promise he would do everything in his power to bring them closure with dignity and return their babies’ soul to them. Finally, he looked up, witnessing in the morning breeze each soul departing into the path of their new journey.

Feeling better, and no longer with the fear he was about to fall on the sidewalk, Eddie unwrapped his arms from the lamppost and walked away. At that moment, his phone rang, and fishing it out from his shirt pocket, he took the call.

“Eddie,” the voice at the other end came through. Even though the voice was raspy, with hints of a cough, Eddie recognizes it right away. It was ages since the last time they spoke.

“Hello Harry, my old friend,” Eddie said. “It’s so nice to hear from you.”

CHAPTER 35

“You’re kidding me?” Taylor asked, not hiding his frustration. “You’re turning this into a zoo. What’s next? Clowns making balloon animals and funny hats?”

“Come on, man, just hear me out,” Alex said as he looked at Taylor, who stood over him, refusing to sit down. “After last night’s bloodbath, we need to be more creative. As of now, we have no leads, and just because we think some man is hiding something inside a basement, unless we have hard evidence, we can’t go knocking on his door. So that leaves us with nothing. Now, if you have a better idea, this is the time to tell me, but until then, all I’m asking you is to sit down and let’s hear what these people have to say.”

“And who are these people?”

“One is Nikki,” Alex said, motioning for Taylor to sit down, still he refused. “I also called Cassandra Quiñonez to join us. After last night, I think she knows more, and we need to know to what extent. I also called Harry. You know, the retired detective who was part of the investigating team on the similar case twenty years ago. And he’s bringing a guest.”

“Who’s the distinguished guest? Van Helsing, the boogeyman’s hunter?”

“Kind of,” Alex smiled.

“What do you mean, kind of?” Taylor growled.

“Harry is bringing a man who he worked with. You know the case—the homeless case—when a man killed a few people here in Sunnyside a few years ago.”

“You mean the case that got his ass pushed into retirement?”

“There was more to that—”

“No! Alex, there was nothing more about that case,” Taylor chopped down Alex’s words. “They tried to pin all the killings on a man who was in a coma. Claiming the man was possessing homeless men’s minds to do his killing. Yeah, I heard the stories. They laughed Harry straight out of the station and into retirement because of it. Shit, they’re still laughing at him, and guess what, buddy… they’ll be laughing at us the second they get a whiff of what you’re trying to do.”

“Dude, can you just listen to them at least? Damn, it’s not like I’m asking to sacrifice a cow or something.”

“Okay, I’m all ears,” Taylor finally sat across from Alex in the precinct’s conference room. “But who’s the fourth person invited to this party? The one who worked with Harry on that homeless case. Who is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“All I know is that Harry said he worked with him on that case.”

“Is he a cop?”

“Not really.”

“Alex, you’re sounding like a two-bit criminal trying to explain a bullshit story.”

“Okay, he’s not a cop... he’s a medium.”

“A medium? What’s that, his shirt size?”

“Come on Taylor, you know damn well what’s a medium.”

“Just humor me. Okay? Just humor me. Tell me exactly who this person is.”

“He’s a Santero. A psychic... a man who speaks with the dead.”

There was a long stare from Taylor, then leaning back on the chair, he laughed—a sarcastic laugh.

“Alex, of all the years we have partnered, I would have never thought you were this gullible. First, you sided with Nikki and her crazy notion that it was not a human being that attacked the first killer. Then you believed wholeheartedly this mystery woman who appeared from nowhere. And to round it up to a perfect score, you’re bringing a senile old, retired cop and his voodoo man.”

“What do we have to lose?”

“Plenty! How about starting with our reputation and maybe our jobs.”

There was a knock on the door, and welcoming the perfect timing, Alex rose quickly and opened it. Standing there was a group of four people, which, looking at them together for the first time, Alex realized Taylor had a legitimate argument; it was a hell of a motley crew. Leading the pack was Nikki, her horned glasses giving her that scholar nerdy appearance. Next to her, their mystery woman, Cassandra, her eyes hard and fixed on Alex’s, and now under the fluorescent lights, he could see the fierceness in them, which added beauty to her. Then there was Harry, and not knowing what to expect, because he had never met the man before, Alex wasn’t ready for what he was looking at. The years had not been kind to him. He seemed like death had taken a few strolls on top of him. The man’s face was rumpled with wrinkles as if chiseled with a dull knife. Under his eyes, dark purple bags hung in layers of dead skin, and the pupils gave the impression of being saturated in blood. His nose—a drinking man’s nose—took up most of his face, and heavy lines drew downward on both sides of his mouth. And right behind him was a diminutive man—like an afterthought. The man was the perfect 98-pound weakling, from the old classic Charles Atlas ads, yet there was a presence about his demeanor that shouted caution and respect, and the way he gave a quick nod to both Alex and Taylor, made both men feel goosebumps run up and down their arms.

All four marched in, and once everyone was inside, Alex closed the door and turned to face them. Taylor was watching him closely, and Alex wondered if he had made an excellent choice in having this meeting. Not giving it anymore thought, however, he jumped in and hoped the others would jump with him as well.

“Harry, I presume,” Alex walked and extended one hand towards him, quite surprised the older man had a firm grip.

“Alex, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” Harry said as he put an arm around the man behind him and guided him to stand in front of him. “This Eddie Santiago, he’s going to be a major asset to your investigation.”

The man, whom Harry thrust in front of him, extended his hand, yet his face was an emotionless mask that gave Alex the jitters.

“Nice to meet you, Detective Munro,” the man introduced as Eddie Santiago said in a soft and accented voice that right away made Alex think of his mother; she had the same Puerto Rican accent.

“Please call me Alex, and this is Detective Taylor Brandon,” Alex said, shaking Eddie’s hand. Unlike Harry’s, his grip was nonexistence, and it was not a sign of weakness, but a sign of a man who didn’t waste his energy.

Turning towards Taylor, Eddie offered his hand and after both men shook, Taylor, just like Alex, instructed everyone to call him by his first name. A big happy family, Taylor wanted to add, but still reluctant about this unorthodox meeting, he left the sarcastic statement out of the dialogue.

One by one, the introductions went around the room, accompanied by small smiles and meaningless chatter. Finally, with everyone seated, Alex looked around and, feeling all eyes on him, slapped his hands together the way a coach might act towards his team with a rah-rah-over-the-top clap to start an important game. But the second he heard his loud clap, he felt foolish, and it also stressed Taylor’s attitude about all this. Perhaps Taylor was right; this should have been a meeting aborted the second it saw light in his head. Yet there was no turning back, and clearing his throat, Alex started the meeting.

“Thank you, everyone, for taking time to be here… I don’t know what to call this… a meeting of the minds, perhaps. But either way, we are all here and that’s to—”

“Excuse me Alex, sorry to interrupt here,” Taylor said, raising his arm. “But just for the records, I’m against this charade we are doing. This is not what my hard-earned detective’s shield represents. As I look around, between the six of us here, only three deserve to be sitting in this room discussing a criminal matter. Sir,” Taylor pointed to Harry. “I appreciate your time and input, but what happened a few years ago, which some of you believe involved some supernatural element, in my personal thoughts, is a lot of hogwash. And you,” he pointed at Cassandra. “I don’t know what your angle is, but if they left it to me, I’d rather have you inside an interrogation room than in a place reserved for important issues. Something happened twenty years ago, and regardless of all the back-room drama, and perhaps favors that had to be given, reading the history of your case, I see you as a person who murdered her husband. How the hell they didn’t find you guilty, and dismissed the case for insufficient evidence, is beyond my comprehension. Jesus, woman, you cut out his fucking heart out!” Taylor shook his head, and he looked like a man that was ready to spit his disgust on the floor. “And one thing that bothers me—actually bothersis not the right word to use—but more what really angers me is that we are now facing similar killings, or should I say the same type of killings your husband committed, and the only denominator is you. You left Sunnyside, and the killings stopped. You popped back into the neighborhood, and the identical killings begin. This time more vicious than twenty years ago. Then, we find you trying to follow a man who you claim is the killer. Yet, you don’t know his name, you don’t know what he looks like, but you’re goddamn sure he’s our killer. Plus, to make matters worse, while we are busy questioning you and going through a goose chase searching for your phantom man, they slaughtered twelve innocent girls. Lady, that leaves a hell of an unpleasant taste in my mouth. Call me anal, but to add more idiotic foolishness, my partner rounds this little get together against my wishes, and he brings a man here—a medium. A fucking medium! Is this some kind of fucking joke that we have a voodoo man in the middle of an investigation? A goddamn medium, in my eyes, he’s a dime-a-dozen charlatan!”

“That’s enough, Taylor,” Alex tried to intervene.

“No, it’s not enough!” Taylor raised his voice. “I will not sit here with my mouth shut, like a complicit fool. Come on, Alex, this is a complete charade, and I refuse to be part of it. I’m a goddamn New York City Detective, not a fucking Ghostbuster!”

“Detective Brandon,” Cassandra waved at Taylor, and her voice was calm and in control. “Whenever you feel we need to have a talk inside an interrogation room, please lead the way. I’ll even revoke my rights, so we could hurry and go inside those two-way mirror intimidating rooms. I have had my share of those intimate chats with many detectives, and others higher in rank than a New York City Detective, like yourself. To make you understand why I’m here after twenty years, why I’m here after I plunged a knife into my husband’s chest and cut out his heart while he was still alive. Yeah, Detective Brandon, this is your day. I’m going to tell you about that night. Others in this room will listen to what I’m saying, but please, I’m only talking to you to answer your blind accusations. Yes, I killed my husband, and when I did, I will not lie to you or anyone here in this room. I was happy… no… I was more than happy. It overwhelmed me with satisfaction when I ripped his heart out. And I’d do it again with no reservation. But before I’ll tell you how a nice, law-abiding woman committed an act that you call murder, I’ll tell you. My husband was not the same man any longer. A demon masqueraded as a woman controlled him… a whore. You don’t want to believe it, and I don’t give a fuck if you do or not. But the longer you sit in your nice, tailored suit with your head buried inside your ass, it will kill more girls. And Detective Brandon, their blood, their lives, will be on your hands. Let me also add, every single media platform available out there will hear from me about how Detective Taylor Brandon sat on the sideline because his logical mind couldn’t think out of the fucking box.”

“Are you finished?” Taylor jumped to his feet, his chair shooting out from under him and crashing hard against the wall. “I think it’s time for you to get off your prima donna pedestal and come back to Earth. Maybe that cockamamie story got you off, but I’m not buying it. Alex, come on man,” Taylor swung around to stared at Alex. “This travesty is coming to a stop right now. I was against this way of thinking from the beginning, and I’m not allowing it to go any further. As of now, this meeting is over.”

As Taylor attempted to walk away, Nikki stood up and blocked his path. “Taylor, please listen.”

“I’m out of here,” Taylor said as he tried going around Nikki, but she held him by the arm.

“Taylor, stop!” Nikki said forcefully. “Yes, this sounds absurd, but try to think, like Cassandra said, out of the box for one second. Will you do that for me?”

Unwillingly, Taylor raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. Nikki smiled and led Taylor back to his chair, which he took, unenthusiastically.

“Of the many years, I’ve been doing forensic work,” Nikki began as she walked back to her chair. “I have never come across a case like this. I’m as baffled as everyone here. Even my entire team, and this is a team that consists of the highest and brightest pathologists in their field. It stumped every one of them. And here’s the reason. There are fifteen bodies of young girls in the morgue as we speak. They killed all of them in the same manner, and more puzzling, every single one of them was only ten to twelve weeks in their pregnancy. It is a remarkable, or should I say an astounding fact, that there’s no way we could classify it as coincidental. These two killers knew that they were pregnant. That’s why they went after them, followed them, and then savagely slaughtered them. Plus, the most significant aspect of all the killings, which mystifies me, is the precise way the killer performs his incisions, and yes, I’m using the word incision, because that’s exactly what they have done, a surgical cut that only a skilled surgeon could make. The killers not only knew, or in this case, know perfectly where to cut, but also how to remove the embryo. Now, for anyone who’s not knowledgeable about the anatomy of a pregnant woman, and where the uterus located and how the embryo develops, to perform such a delicate cut is a remarkable feat. And what’s more inconceivable is the speed these killers are doing it. Now, bear in mind, a doctor will perform such surgical procedure after they sedate the patient. These killers have done this while fighting with the victim. For a person, even with medical training, it is practically impossible to achieve that, and last night, one man did it twelve times in under ten hours. How is that imaginable? Unless something beyond our comprehension is guiding this man. That’s the only radical solution.” Nikki paused and leaned forward, staring at Taylor.

“Are we sure just one man, did it?” Taylor asked.

“It’s too early to confirm it, but I have spent all night examining the victims, and by the size of the cuts and stab wounds in their bodies, the knife is the same in every murder. I won’t rule out the possibility that it’s perhaps the work of more than just one man, but to be using the same type of knife, that’s almost impossible.”

“It could be a cult, a satanic cult that’s training their members not only how to cut, but they are using the same type of knives,” Taylor attempted to keep the logical reasoning on the case alive.

“If that was the case,” Nikki said. “Why was the knife used by the first killer different?”

Taylor stared at Nikki for a while, then shaking his head, looked at Alex, and rolled his eyes with disgust.

“Ms. Quiñonez,” Harry turned and addressed Cassandra. “Your husband, did he have any medical training?”

“Nope, he couldn’t even put a Band-Aid on by himself,” Cassandra said, and her face broke into a smile.

Harry returned the smile, but it only brought out the deep wrinkles in his entire face. Swinging around, he looked at everyone in the room. “The reason I asked that question is twenty years ago, at the beginning of our investigation, we believed our killer was a doctor. The three women killed back then, the cuts were perfect, plus all three victims were also ten to twelve weeks in their pregnancy. That’s a hell of a pattern, which we can’t ignore.”

“Doctor Hanif, may I ask you a question?” Eddie leaned forward to look over Harry, who was sitting between him and Nikki. “At ten to twelve weeks, what’s the stage of the fetus?”

“By the second month of the pregnancy, the spinal cord, the brain, the intestines, and the skin develops and takes form. Along with the eyes, ears, nose, and upper lip, and some limbs. During that stage, the embryo resembles a human being.”

“What about the heart?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I’m getting forgetful. Yes, that’s a crucial time in the pregnancy because that’s exactly when the heart develops, which we all know is the most vital organ in the human body. Any reason you asked?”

“Not only is the heart a vital organ, as you mentioned, that keeps us alive, but it’s also the home of the soul,” Eddie explained, placing one hand over his heart.

“And what’s that supposed to be? Are we going now from a boogeyman’s convention to a Hallelujah revival?” Taylor said, as he threw his hands over his head.

“Taylor, let’s hear him out,” Alex motioned with both hands for Taylor to relax. “It’s not costing you a cent to hear what he has to say.”

“It’s costing me plenty, like my sanity,” Taylor said. “But I guess I’m outnumbered here.”

“Detective Brandon, I don’t know your religious beliefs—” Eddie addressed Taylor.

“I thought you were a psychic,” Taylor mocked Eddie. “Aren’t you supposed to know everything?”

“Come on, man,” Alex rolled his eyes at Taylor. “Dude, you’re not helping the situation here.”

“And all this crazy talk is helping us catch the psycho?” Taylor threw his hands up; he  didn’t hide his exasperation.

“Detective,” Harry lifted his hand and pointed at Eddie. “When I came across this man, I was just like you. Even after being involved with Cassandra’s case, I was still a beat cop, so it limited my involvement to only be at the scene when we arrested her.”

“Really?” Cassandra gave the old detective a surprised look. “I don’t remember you.”

“I handcuffed you and lead you to the squad car,” Harry said and gave her a nod. “No hard feelings… right?”

“Water under the bridge,” Cassandra said and smiled. Her beauty once again admired by Alex.

“Now, Detective Brandon, when I first spoke to Eddie, I behaved the exact way that you are acting now. For Christ's sake, we are cops. We work on the black and white of the law. Anything else is all mumbo jumbo. That’s what I thought, but when a fellow detective, and hell of a friend, gets killed, and you follow the destruction that one man caused, with every piece of evidence stacked against him. Only to have it thrown out of court by a savvy and well-connected pretty boy lawyer, you realize that sometimes there’s more to it than meets the eye. I saw with my own eyes the transformation of a human being, a helpless human being, turned into a savage beast right in front of me. And then just like that,” Harry snapped his fingers. “He turns back into a confused, mentally ill man. That’s what was going on with the homeless man. This killer was controlling him, and I swear on a stack of Bibles, I saw an additional set of eyes attached to the homeless man’s pupils.”

“Oh, Lord, I feel I’m back in my Boy Scout’s days during ghost story time at a campsite,” Taylor passed one hand over his head. “Sir, your argument for me to believe that we are dealing with something supernatural is a weak argument. You know that?”

“You’re missing the point,” Harry said.

“I’m missing the point?” Taylor said as he pushed himself away from the desk and stood up. “No! All of you are missing the point! When are we going to get the wooden stakes and garlic to combat the undead?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Cassandra frowned at Taylor. “What’s your problem? We —”

“Excuse me,” Taylor cut Cassandra off. “What’s this we nonsense? You’re not even supposed to be here. Or you and you,” Taylor pointed at Harry and Eddie. “As far as I’m concerned this meeting shouldn’t even be happening, and with that said, I’m out of here.”

“Taylor, wait,” Alex tried to stop him.

“Get out of my way,” Taylor said, walking around the table. “I’m going to my desk and do some actual police work, with real police personnel. When you come to your senses, stop by, and say hello. Until then, if you want to continue chasing ghosts, get yourself a more gullible partner.”

“Detective Brandon, when you were five years old, still living in Haiti, you saw your grandmother get stoned to death. It traumatized you,” Eddie pointed to Taylor and spoke, but his voice took a unique accent, and only the white of his eyes were visible. “She was a Mambos, a Vodou priestess. Loved and respected by many in the town where you were born.”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Taylor pounded both fists on the table.

“Her dead ancestors chose her,” Eddie continued. “A line of Houngans, which are priests, and Mambos, priestesses like herself. She received her divination from the Vodou deities, and once possessed by them, her duties were to do good by helping and protecting her people from evil spells. But like any religion, any political party, jealousy, and the greed for power takes over. There was a Bokor, a sorcerer, who followed the dark side. He became envious of your grandmother and, casting evil spells on those she trusted, commanded them to kill her. You were sitting in your favorite spot of her kitchen, two small wooden steps that led to the backyard where she grew all her herbs, not only to cook, but to use in her ceremonies. You loved when she blew on pieces of meat as she cooked and gave them to you. Those were the happiest moment of your childhood until they came with their pockets filled with stones.”

“I told you to shut the hell up!” Taylor shouted as he rushed around the table, but Alex quickly intercepted him.

“Pitit pitit mwen an, where are your manners?” Eddie asked, each word laced with the diction of a woman speaking in a Haitian Creole tongue. “Is this what America taught you? Tay-tay, I’m disappointed. Didn’t I educate you better?”

Abruptly Taylor stopped, and flinching for a few seconds, he stared at Eddie who now was leaning back on the chair, his arms spread out in front of him, and his eyelids fluttering rapidly. It was impossible, but the voice he was hearing was his deceased grandmother—his granmé—and she was calling him Tay-tay, the way she called him, short for Taylor.

“Tay-tayyou have the gift,” Taylor’s grandmother continued talking through Eddie. “Child, there’s nothing you can do to run away from it. It’s in your blood, in my blood, in our ancestors’ blood. Now hush child and embrace my soul.”

“What the hell are you, man?” Taylor asked, but there was no longer any fight in his words.

“Tay-tay, evilness awaits you, and I don’t want you to get hurt,” Eddie’s eyes opened and slowly he turned his head, and finding Taylor, a smile spread throughout his face as his complexion went darker, and he reached out to Taylor, who stood motionless next to Alex. “You will lead them, Tay-tay. You’ll protect them just like I protected our people. Destroy this demon once and for all. Now go on, Tay-tay. Granmé renmen ou.”

Sitting hard on the chair, Taylor hunched over the table, his eyes vacant and watery, staring at the ground. Across from him, Eddie leaned forward, his hands holding on to the edge of the table for support. The room shrouded in silence, as everyone remained still, afraid to even breathe.

“Are you a Houngans?” Taylor broke the silence, but even his voice was low. “I remember seeing my grandmother, my granmé, talk in many voices, in many languages. I never gave it much thought when I was a boy. I thought all grandmothers had the same abilities. Later, was when I learned it was only a few with such gift. But really, is it a gift? You’re right, I saw her murdered by the same people that came to her with problems, so it was not a gift, but more like a curse. I swore that her old ways would never curse me. I guess you can only run so far, especially when your heritage is running with you as well. So, Eddie Santiago, are you a Houngans?”

Lifting his head, Eddie nodded at Taylor. “Yes, but in my religion of Santería, I’m called a Santero, a Babalawo, and you’re right my friend, it feels more like a curse than a gift.”

“So, what’s next?” Taylor whispered.

“We’ll bring the fight to this demon and send it to hell,” Eddie said as he looked around, until his sight fell on Cassandra. “I feel a presence around you. Why is that?”

Taken by surprise, Cassandra became flustered, and she shrugged.

“It’s there something we need to know?” Eddie pressed on. “As of today, many things in our lives are going to change, some worse than others, and if we are going to go forward, there’s no secret to be kept from each other.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cassandra said, but not too convincing. “Is this the time you’re going to roll your eyes backwards and start babbling again in gibberish?”

“There’s a man standing next to you,” Eddie said, and his piercing eyes burrowed right through Cassandra. “He’s angry that I’m seeing him, and I sensed your anger as well. There’s a dark hole in the center of his chest, and I smell death in him. I know who he is, but for the trust of others, you…” Eddie darted a finger at Cassandra. “Only you, Cassandra Quiñonez, need to reveal his identity.”

Cassandra’s eyes darted nervously, for Eddie’s words were muddying her thoughts and challenged her assertiveness. Leaving her vulnerable and with the same anxieties that overtook her the first time she realized Alberto’s possession. She wanted to bolt out of here, run away from all the eyes that stared at her, stripping away that invisible shield she coated herself with the second she plunged that knife into Alberto’s heart. She backed away from Eddie’s accusing finger, and at that point she hated nobody as much as she hated this cursed frightening man.

“Do you realize he’s playing you for a fool?” Eddie continued. “He brought you here for a reason, and it’s not for what you thought it was. You are not here to destroy the demon, but to give her life. Please, Cassandra, we are running out of time. Tell all of us who is the evil man standing behind you?”

The overhead lights flickered, and loud stomping steps buckled behind Cassandra. Then the same hard footfalls scrambled across the floor, with the animosity of a spoiled brat going through a tantrum. Harry coughed; his face beat red as he gasped for air. His handkerchief saturated in blood, and the sensation of a forceful grip around his neck suffocated him. A second later, something brushed against Nikki, leaving her skin clammy and hot, and immediately she scratched her arms until they bled. Alex’s chair lifted twelve inches off the ground, spun around in the air, and spilled him onto the floor, busting his lips wide open from the fall. A strong wind rushed in front of Taylor, jerking him upward, slamming his head against the ceiling, and covering the top of his skull with cuts. While the pandemonium broke out through every corner of the room, nothing went near Eddie. Slowly, Eddie pushed away from the table and raised his hands, moving his fingers, and then rolled them into fists. He squinted and allowed a smile to stretch his lips into two thin lines, and gyrating his arms above his head, Eddie brought them hard against the table with a loud bang. The walls vibrated with force. He stared hard at Cassandra, then guided his sight right through her, until they settled on the entity who stood behind her. It was a dark green individual with a disfigured mouth that twisted in a sneer of fear, confusion, and hate. Then it curled back, terrified by the sharpness and defiance in Eddie’s eyes.

“You pawn of the Devil, move aside from that woman!” Eddie commanded. “Alberto is no longer in your possession, release his spirit and return to your place in Hell, you vermin, and take the cheap whore you called your Queen with you! I order you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost!”

A tomb-like silence befell the room, the lights flickered, and faint knocks ricocheted against the walls. In giant leaps, the conference table jumped, buckling like a wild horse, then, mysteriously, it stopped. An eerie tranquility invaded the room that lasted a few troublesome minutes and then, unexpectedly, a loud shriek split the hard-mahogany table in half. Everyone glanced around, wide-eyed, as an impulsive scream—loud and bestial—inundated the room. The screech pierced into their brains, ripping the tissues of skin, pulverizing the tiny bones inside their eardrums, forcing them to raise their hands and protect themselves.

“Cheap tricks,” Eddie shouted, ignoring the thin lines of blood dripping out of his ears. “That’s what you are, a sack of old, cheap tricks. Your little drama might work in a children’s nightmare, but you need more than that to scare me. You dare challenge me? You are a crawling insect on the Devil’s tails. What a sad little man you are.”

“Your insults are quite amusing, coming from you,” a voice vaulted throughout the room. “Are you now Cassandra’s protector? Funny, the last person you tried to protect from evil you lead to her death. To this day, Annie hates you.”

The name of Annie disturbed Eddie. However, he knew this was the demon’s plan. Rattle him with his past, and if he let Annie down then, it would not happen again with Cassandra. Lightning doesn’t strike twice in his forest. And with that thought, Eddie stayed calm, refusing to give in to the demon’s play. Let the evil one taunt him all he wants, and like a bully who’s no longer feared in the schoolyard, this one will eventually scurry away like a rat.

“You’ll fail, brujo! Do you hear me? You will fail again. And people will die because of you. There are many already in the spirit world who would rather not see you again. What waits for you when you finally leave this place of the living is not the glorious paradise you think you deserve. Look around you. These fools will also die because of you, and in their last breath, they will curse your name. Go on, you still have time to turn around and go back to your insignificant life-giving plant baths to old women with arthritis. Coconut grind powder to the wives whose husbands have gone stray, the right color candle to guide loved ones’ spirit to the grand old lie of God’s salvation. Bah! What a pitiful clown you are. Not even your Santeria’s chants or your Padrino’s spiritual guidance could save your mother. Yes, brujo, you tried to cast me as a mere insect in Satan’s ass, but I’m more than you can handle. Josefa should have let you rot with Edgardo when she had the chance.”

“Go on, go back to your whore and let her know we counted her days of survival,” Eddie shouted, waving one hand in front of him.

“Lilith will rise like the Phoenix that she is. She’ll walk among you. No one can deny her glory!”

“I will deny her to walk even in hell again!” Eddie screamed as a twirling column burst in the middle of the room, swiftly submerging the thing, and with a loud explosion, it vanished. Dropping to her knees, Cassandra trembled as uncontrollable sobs echoed throughout the room.

“You didn’t know. This thing who pretended to be your late husband tricked you into believing his lie,” Eddie said as he went to Cassandra and helped her to her feet. “He’s a trickster. They all are. Don’t they come from the place where the biggest trickster rules?”

“Jesus, what the hell are you?” Cassandra pushed herself away from Eddie. “You are one of them. He called you a brujo, and you saw him when no one else can.”

“Any explanation for that, Babalawo?” Taylor glared directly at Eddie.

“I have the gift, just like your grandmother, or maybe as you called it, a curse.”

“Leave my grandmother out of this,” Taylor lunged at Eddie, but not before Alex wrapped his arms around him and pushed him back.

“Relax, brother,” Alex yelled, struggling against Taylor, who outweighed him by ten pounds of muscles.

“That’s what she wants. You’re playing right into her bag of tricks,” Eddie said as he looked at Taylor and then at everyone in the room. “You know the old saying, united we stand, divided we fall, well, that’s exactly what she’s counting on.”

“Okay, let’s see how united we are.” Taylor kept the pressure. “I want to know everything about you and especially Cassandra, for it seems there’s a fucking connection between the two of you.”

“What connection?” Cassandra glared at Taylor. “I have never seen this man before in my life, until today, and I hope I don’t have to see him again.”

“Really? Why? Are you two in cahoots? Whatever the fuck was here, attacked us all, but it sure spared touching either of you. How’s that possible?”

“Detective Brandon,” Eddie took a few steps towards Taylor. “Cassandra was the first one to be attacked by this evil thing. It was worse. The demon assaulted her mentally, and physically as well, because this thing was inside her head. Maybe we can’t see her wounds, but they are there.”

“And what about you?” Taylor said and realizing he was no longer charging towards Eddie, Alex let go, but remained in front of him.

“Their powers are useless against me. Someone once trapped me in their world, in the land of the dead. It confused them.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“As a child, a spirit obsessed with my mother kept my soul captive in a purgatory that he created. I was there for many days in the afterlife, while my body was in a coma here in this world. After my mother's battle for my soul, I returned home to the world of the living, but let’s say something in it changed me forever. I belong to both worlds, and I can travel to both as easily as I could go over a bridge. When Harry called me, not only I was expecting his call, but I had also already decided to go after this monster on my own. The spirits of every girl killed by this demon came to me, and I promised them I’ll bring their children’s souls to them. Otherwise, they’ll remain in limbo forever. I can’t let that happen.”

“Jesus,” Taylor plunged into a chair as if he had gotten shot. “Is that the reason you knew about my grandmother, and speak like her?”

“Your grandmother was here. That was your grandmother who spoke. She merely used me as her vessel. I didn’t bring her here… she came to me. And she wants you to know that she’s always next to you. Protecting you, watching over you. That’s what she was doing now, protecting you from your own self. She wants you to know, Detective Brandon, to please see me as a messenger from the world where she lives now.”

Speechless and bewildered by Eddie’s words, Taylor closed his eyes and, placing both hands on his face, he lowered his head.

For a long while, everyone remained in their own private thoughts. Sitting next to Taylor, Alex put his arm around his partner’s shoulders. His eyes showed fatigue, and staring at Cassandra, Alex shook his head. “Now that we know Eddie’s story, I think we all need to know yours.”

“What do you want to know, besides what you already learned from reading my files?” Cassandra asked, and her words sounded drained.

“Your files have too many holes to even grasp a coherent dialogue of what actually took place that night. It’s hard to accept that cutting out someone’s heart out was an act of self-defense. I’ve been doing this police work for a long time, and I have seen many cases of spousal abuse. I have seen the perpetrators getting shot, stabbed, run over by a car, even their dicks chopped off… but carving the man’s heart… lady… that’s right up there with the Ripley’s Believe it or Not. How the hell did you get off? It’s a mystery, and your files do not even come close to explaining it. And believe me, I have combed every file, read every news article about your little adventure, and all I gained from my hard work was just fucking tired eyes looking at the damn computer screen. So, how about starting from the top? If it’s understood that everyone here is going after something from a horror movie, we need to know everything. Especially how long you were chummy-chummy with the thing that just trashed us all over the place.” Alex said, then circling one finger in the air, he frowned. “By the way, am I the only one who noticed that from all the screaming and crashing inside this room, not one person from outside came barging in to investigate?”

“That’s a good question,” Harry said, looking at Eddie. “Do you have any idea?”

Eddie shrugged, and even though he had some speculations, it was best to keep it to himself for now—there was no need to alarm anyone at this moment.

“Well, I’m sure there’s some hocus pocus explanation, which right now it’s not that important about the how’s and why’s,” Alex continued. “Because at this moment, what we need to know is how all this started, and I believe it began twenty years ago,” then turning towards Cassandra. “Ms. Quiñonez, the floor is all yours.”

CHAPTER 36

Never in her life, not even twenty years ago when they had slammed her with questions the night they arrested her, had Cassandra felt entirely exposed—naked—before so many strangers. Dropping her eyes to the splinters that stood like needles in the center of the conference table, Cassandra took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. The strong bravado she had shown a few minutes ago was now a memory, and what it left was her true persona, and that was a woman wrapped in fear since that awful night. She raised her head, taking her time to look at everyone in the room. After she folded her hands, and closing her eyes for a few seconds, Cassandra spoke:

“The night before they found the first body, I remember Alberto coming home about an hour after midnight. The first thing that hit me was the awful stench around him. It was so bad that it reeked even before he came through the door. Now, understand, his coming home late didn’t alarm me because Alberto would occasionally drive his cousin’s livery cab to earn extra money, especially when I lost my job, and those extra dollars became a big necessity to make ends meet. But on that night, he seemed distant, and without saying a word, he went straight to the bathroom, locked the door, which he never did, and took a long shower. After, he came out and instead of coming to bed, he went to the living room and stayed there for the entire night. At first, I thought it was strange, but I tried not to make too much fuss about it. I figured all those hours working were finally catching up to him. He was burning the candle on both ends and it was finally taking its toll. But after a few days, I knew there was something wrong. Our conversations became small talk, it was like living with a stranger. Again, seeing all the hours he was working, I didn’t press him to tell me what was going on. I felt guilty, convinced that my unemployment was putting a heavy burden on him. Still, the coldness in him, and then I noticed he found every excuse possible not to share our bed, and one morning while he was getting dressed to go to work, I walked into the bedroom and saw the bruises on his back. Well, I thought they were bruises, because he put on his shirt real fast when he heard me come in. It startled me, and I asked him to lift his shirt. He mumbled it was a rash and tried to walk away. By then I was tiring of him dismissing me as if I was a servant and I demanded to see his back. He refused, and then he pushed me away. When I persisted, and tried to lift his shirt up, he cursed at me and slapped me—that was the first time he hit me since he started getting help for his alcoholism. I stood there in shock, while he shouted to leave him alone. Still screaming at me, he ran out of the apartment. That night he didn’t come home, and in the early morning they found another body of a young girl, killed the same way as the first one, her guts ripped apart.” Cassandra took a deep breath and brushed her hair away from her forehead.

“That evening,” she continued. “Alberto returned, and again with the horrible smell that made me gag... it was like the stink of rotten meat. Without a word he went straight to the bathroom to take a shower, while I sat in the living room trying to understand what the hell was going on. The first thing that came to mind was that he was having an affair, for it had been more than a month since we had slept together… and I don’t know,” Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose and cursed under her breath. “It confused me… it hurt me, so when he came out of the bathroom, I confronted him. This time, he punched me. It was a hard punch that knocked me to the ground, and I laid there on the floor, and the hatred I saw in his eyes horrified me. After he stepped over me, he went inside the bedroom, slammed the door and locked himself in.”

Cassandra wrung her hands and, with a weak smile, stared straight at the wall as she continued her tale. “I cried for hours like a damn imbecile, staying on the floor until finally I dragged myself to the couch and fell asleep. In the morning, Alberto had left already, and I went inside the bedroom. There were stains of blood on the bed… and dried sperm, plus that same sickening smell that now appeared to be coming out of the walls.”

“I spent the entire day in a fog, trying to understand what was happening to my life—our lives—and when Alberto didn’t come home, my suspicions of him having an affair grew. The next morning, they killed another girl, and by then, the neighborhood was in an uproar. All local girls, all killed in the same savage way, and everyone demanded action. That was when I began to think the unthinkable. As much as I tried not to believe my gut feelings, I felt so strongly that my husband had something to do with those killings. I had no one to confide in. I had no friends, nor family. At ten I was an orphan, and I spent my childhood ushered from foster homes until I was eighteen, so I was alone, and I felt more alone than ever. My first thought was to go to the police, but really…” Cassandra smirked and brushed her hair away from her forehead. “Imagine how stupid it was going to sound to the police if I went with the story that my husband beat me, so that makes him the number one suspect for the killings. They would have locked me up instead. And because of that, I knew I was in a hell of a spot. I tried to find answers to my situation by playing detective. The first place I searched was the closet inside the bedroom. I went through all his clothes, taking each item one by one, inspecting them, smelling them for any scent of perfume that would convince me he was having an affair. When I found nothing, I decided to go through his shoes and a couple of boxes where he kept knickknacks. Not finding anything to support my suspicions, I was about to get up when something underneath the bed attracted my attention. I crawled and reaching out, I pulled a small box, and inside there was a jar, like the old-fashioned milk bottles. The jar was disgusting, and I dropped it back in the box, wiping my hands on my jeans. There was also something wrapped in a piece of red cloth, and when I unwrapped it was a long knife, with what looked like dried blood on the blade. By now my hands were shaking, as I sat there on the floor, looking at that jar and knife. I didn’t know what to do. Finally, I pushed the box back where I found it and I felt this coldness take hold of me, as if something was within the walls and any second it was going to jump out and attack me. I was so afraid, and getting on my feet, I knew I had to get out of there, but I was trembling, and like a lunatic I cried and laughed at the same time. I thought I was losing my mind, then I heard someone outside the front door, and thinking that it was Alberto, I panicked, because now I was sure that he was the killer and I wondered if I was going to be next. To my relief, it was only the next-door neighbor, and relaxing a bit, I plopped down onto the couch and without realizing it, I fell asleep. It was morning when I woke up, and there were signs that Alberto had come in and left. It was disturbing that I didn’t wake up when Alberto was there. By then I was a mess, and the more I tried to come up with a plan, or what to do, the harder it was to concentrate. I sat on the couch without moving until evening. By then the apartment was getting dark, only the light from the lamppost kept me from complete darkness, when I heard the bedroom door open. It was an old apartment, and the hinges made a whining noise. I kept telling Alberto to oil them, but he never came around in doing it. And that’s why I knew the sound was coming from the bedroom. Then it stopped, and I heard footsteps, as if someone was coming out, but it was impossible because I was all alone. It had to be my mind playing tricks on me. I even prayed that it was the sounds of neighbors returning home from work. But for whatever reason that possessed me, I walked closer to a small corridor that led to the bedroom, and I listened closely. To my horror, the steps were coming from the room. They were hard and I could hear the wooden floor creak, and whatever was coming out was real. I felt this coldness throughout my body, and as much as I wanted to move, I couldn’t. I prayed, begging God that all this was a dream, that I was still asleep on the couch and soon I’d wake up. But part of me knew it was real, and I stared at the area where the steps were coming from. I screamed when I saw a black shadow standing on the threshold that separated the small corridor and the living room. There was a strong smell, the same identical stink that came out of Alberto’s pores, and the same one that came from inside the walls. It was a nauseating stink, and I screamed. I snapped out of whatever was causing me not to move, but when I was about to run out, everything quietened down. There were no steps, no smell. I even swore the sounds from outside vanished as well… everything came to a stop. Of course, that made me believe I was going insane.” Cassandra threw her back against the chair and rubbed both arms. Exhaling loudly, she continued. “But I felt a relief. I even laughed at myself for acting like a child. And taking one last look at the corridor, I returned to the couch. And there, in front of me, was a decomposing woman. I could see her bones. In some other places, I saw her veins through her purplish flesh, and her organs were still forming. Her heart—it was a large, dark red blob—and it made the sound of a hollowed drum. Yet some areas of her body were almost complete, but the skin was raw, like the flesh of someone who has suffered a terrible burn. Her face reminded me of the pictures you see in those anatomy books. Her eye sockets were deep and crusted in brown marrow, and the flesh that stretched over her mouth was thin enough to clearly see her teeth and tongue. I even saw strips of her veins, in purple and bluish twisting lines.” Cassandra gasped, but continued.

“She was blocking the way to the front door, so I tried to run around her to the side by the window; I was ready to jump out from my second-floor apartment rather than stay inside with that thing. But, Lord, she was quick. I have never seen anything move that fast. She reached out for me, her hands, like talons, wrapped around my arms, and pulled me towards her. By now I was hoarse from all the screaming, and all I could do was whimper. I tried to pull away from her, but her grip was strong, and the awful smell which came out of her body was atrocious. I did my best to fight back. I remembered punching her with all the strength I had left, but it was like hitting a bowl of Jell-O. Then she lifted me and threw me across the room. I hit the wall hard, and as I fell to the floor, I passed out. When I regained consciousness, the apartment was dark, except for two candles. It was strange because the last time I used them was for a romantic dinner to celebrate our anniversary, and I knew I had put them away. Who took them out and lit them was something I kept asking myself. Still on the floor, I looked around, feeling that all this had been a nightmare after all. There were sounds coming from the bedroom. I struggled to get back up, and I felt lifeless, but thank God I could at least walk. With no other thought but to get the hell out of there while I still could, I went to the door. Oh, Lord, that was not easy. After taking a few steps, I heard something rushing out of the bedroom. I could barely make out the shape when it struck me from behind and sent me, headfirst, into the coffee table. There was blood running down my face and I tried to get up. I was screaming, and all I wanted more than ever was to get to the front door, when from the shadows, Alberto ran out and blocked me. I looked at him, and I saw the knife he was holding; it was the same one I saw inside the box. Big drops of blood dripped down, and there was also blood on his hands and arms. In Alberto’s other hand, he held the jar, the same one that had been under the bed, stained with fresh blood, and I could see there was something inside. It was impossible to tell what it was, but by the lumpy shape it looked like a small bird. I backed away from him, and from behind me I felt the hot and bronchial breathing of the thing. Her sharp, claw-like hands fell on top of my shoulders, and when I tried to pull away, Alberto dug his knee into my stomach which knocked the breath out of me. I tried my best to stay on my feet, but when the monster loosened her grip, I fell on the floor, and to make sure that I stayed down, Alberto placed one foot on my face. I yelled at him. Asked him what the hell he was doing, but he ignored me, and placing the knife down on a table, he gave the jar to the monster. There was a child-like excitement in the way she took it and putting one hand inside she took out what at first, I thought was a small bird, but now with the light from the two candles to my horror saw it wasn’t a bird, but a human fetus. I wanted to look away, and I heard myself moaning. It was a repulsive sight, and then taking me by the hair, Alberto pulled me into a sitting position where I watched this monstrosity eat the embryo in slow satisfying chomps,” Cassandra shuddered, and rubbing her arms once more, looked down at the ground. Her face was ashen and in the minutes that she had been telling her story, it seemed those awful memories aged her right in front of everyone. She stopped rubbing her arms and putting her elbows on the edge of the damaged table, Cassandra clasped her face. For five minutes, she stayed in that position. Perhaps recalling the nightmare was taking its toll. Enveloped in the grip of the macabre story, everyone let the eerie silence consume them and solemnly waited patiently for Cassandra to resume. Eventually, Cassandra raised her face, taking a quick glance throughout the room, nodded, and then continued talking.

“By then, you could imagine how tired I was. Not only physically, but my mental sanity was taking quite a beating. How the hell can any human being be able to witness what I did without being affected? My emotions were all a big jumble; in one second, I was screaming, another second, I was laughing, then I was crying, and all along I was babbling. I started heaving and then I vomited, and on my knees, I moved away from them. I was near the window, and again the thoughts about jumping out came back to me, but I was too weak to even attempt getting up—and if I did, I was sure that either one of them was going to grab me before I could jump out. Instead, I sat there, while the monster finished eating the embryo, and then putting one hand inside the jar, she scraped the blood from it. She licked her fingers in loud, slurping sounds. I could see part of her neck and upper chest growing new skin, and I understood then what was going on; the embryos were making her more human. While she licked her fingers, Alberto stood there, like a servant waiting for a reward. And it didn’t take long for this thing to look at him and, spreading her arms wide, invited him to her. Alberto went to her—and like lovers, they held onto each other. Lifting one of her breasts, she offered it to him, and my husband, the man who I vowed to love till death do us apart, began sucking on it. By that time, I was crying hysterically, for even though I was in the middle of this terrible living nightmare, marital jealousy arose in me. I hated this woman more than I had ever hated anyone in my life. She stole everything away from me, and as I watched them fulfilling each other’s lust, I wanted nothing more but to kill this monster—and kill Alberto as well. They were now on the floor, and as Alberto groped her and drank the green liquid that she squeezed from her nipples, she shredded his clothes off. In no time, Alberto was completely naked, and I could see rashes and bite marks all over his body. Their obscene moans were offensive and drove me crazy, and as I stood up, I saw the demon opened her mouth wide, and her teeth, rows of sharp daggers, took bites from Alberto’s back. He screamed, and with each bite that this monster took, his yells were louder and obscene. He shouted her name. ‘Lilith, my beloved Lilith!’, and engrossed in their passion, I became to them a mere spectator, and taking that to my advantage, I went to the table where the knife and jar were. My confusion, and most of all, the hurt in my heart from watching the man who I married, fucking another woman right in front of me, infuriated me to where I was blind. Adding to my anger the demon mounted Alberto and began pumping her body into him. He shouted her name, like he had never shouted my name, and then the demon looked at me. Her face contorted with pleasure—a pleasure—that my husband was giving her, and she smiled at me, a defying and mocking smile. I snatched the knife from the table, and I plunged every inch of the blade in Alberto’s heart. He screamed and his eyes rolled back into his head, and the monster also screamed in pain, grabbing her own chest. I took the knife out and kept stabbing Alberto over and over. And with each stab I watched the thing thrash on the floor, holding on to her heart. Desperately, she was crawling towards the bedroom, and blinded by rage, I jumped on top of her, and plunked the knife on her back. She tried to toss me off, but digging my ankles into her side, I stayed on top of her, continuously stabbing her. Her green blood splashed all over me, burning any exposed flesh, but still I kept up my attack, and jumping sideways, she finally threw me off her. I got back to my feet, and I stepped back as the thing rolled on the floor, her arms flailing, her head twisting backwards, crying in pain. Was she dying? I asked myself as I went around her, the knife still in my hand, and I finally understood. Somehow, it connected both their hearts and the only way to end this horrible nightmare was by destroying Alberto’s heart. And that’s when I went around her and to where Alberto laid. It surprised me he was still alive, but just barely. He was breathing with difficulty and with no hesitation, I raised the knife and brought it down into his chest. It went through his skin, breaking the bones around his heart, and I turned the knife around. After, I threw the knife away, and I took hold of Alberto’s heart and yanked it from his chest. I felt its warmth, and it shocked me that the damn thing was still beating, and I held the heart where the thing could see it. Her eyes, which were yellow, stared at me, and to this day I have never felt such hatred, the way she looked at me that night. I spat on her, which angered her even more while she wriggled and hissed at me with curses. I kicked her hard and then I took Alberto’s still beating heart to the table and I squeezed it until every drop of its blood filled the bottom of the filthy jar. With one last shout, the demon opened her mouth wide and from within, a green mist spewed out and flew straight inside the jar. There was a blinding burst the second it mixed with Alberto’s blood, bubbled like hot water, and before me the thing contorted in pain and with an explosion, disappeared, leaving a charcoal stain on the floor.

“For a long time, I sat on the floor, staring at the jar, and every so often I would stare at Alberto’s body. He laid in a pool of blood, and by now his face had turned a sickening bluish color. Slowly, as if it wasn’t my own body, I rose from the floor and went to the closet and, opening the door, I rummaged through the top shelf until I found what I was looking for. A bottle of Holy Water, which I always got on Easter Sunday, and then taking a photo album from the same shelf, I leafed through it until I found a picture of Alberto when we first moved into the apartment. It was a picture where he was standing by the window, and his smiling eyes were the epitome of the love we had for each other. I went back to the living room, and I placed the picture inside the jar, so his spirit would go back to the time he was gentle, not the monster whom he had become. Then I poured the Holy Water inside the jar, it boiled momentarily, then it stopped. I went to the bedroom and removed the cloth that was still inside the box under the bed, and I returned to the living room. Cutting some of the cloth, I placed it on top of the jar and with strands from the same cloth I sealed it tight. I prayed to God for His forgiveness, not only for me, but for Alberto’s sins, and I also asked Him to give the final eternal rest to all the young girls and their unborn. Taking the jar, I went to the window, and I stuck half of my body out and I cried, wondering what to do next. Should I dispose of the jar by throwing it in the garbage? Bury it? And as I looked down, I saw under the ivy that grew on this side of the building a hole from a missing brick and somehow it made sense, the jar belonged there, right under where my handsome husband stood on that beautiful day. I smiled, satisfied that it was the right thing to do, and moving the ivy away, I put the jar inside, and to my surprise, it was a perfect fit. I said another prayer, for I knew I had just buried the love of my life, then I sat on the floor, until the cops bust the door open.”

Shrouded in silence, they all sat, troubled by the tale they had just heard. To most of them, it was too hard to digest in minds programmed for so long that ghouls and demons were only part of folklore and campfire stories. To dismiss Cassandra’s narrative would have been the right thing to do, file it under foolishness from a woman who nobody knew who she was, but only knew about her violent past. Sure, it would have been the easiest thing to do. But, when they all remembered that mere minutes ago, they were all savagely attacked by a force that paralleled her story, their minds were slowly reprogramming to accept that perhaps, yes, there are ghouls and demons among us wanting to do us harm.

“That’s my story,” Cassandra said, in a listless voice, as if this was the first time she could talk about her nightmarish ordeal to believers’ ears. “Take it however you want. Yes, it is far-fetched to even think it’s real if I was sitting in your place.”

“For Jesus’ sake,” Harry said at no one in particular. “What the hell are we dealing with?”

“A demon that needs to be destroyed,” Eddie said.

“Cassandra’s story is a terrifying tale, and if I didn’t witness what happened in this room,” Nikki said as she passed one hand over the scratches on her arm. “But I’m a scientist, and yes part of me believes, but another part of me wants more proof if I’m even contemplating in going after this thing.”

“Excuse me Nikki,” Taylor raised his hand. “But weren’t you the one who, a few weeks ago who was preaching to us that something inhuman was behind the killings? And now you’re doubting what we just experienced.”

“Taylor, I’m not dismissing it, rather I want something more. I need more facts—solid facts—if we are to go into battle against this… this diabolical thing.”

“What more proof do you need than the scratches on your arms that you’ve been touching for the past half-hour?” Alex asked. “It lifted both Taylor and I like dolls, and Harry coughed as if something was choking him. And please, let’s not ignore what’s right in front of us, a damn solid mahogany table that split right in half all on its own. Nikki, I don’t know what more proof do you need.”

“Alex, please, I’m not a child. I’d appreciate it if you did not twist my words,” Nikki said, pushing her glasses up, staring at Alex across the table. “Yes, I had my doubts… I still do, but we need to be sure, because unless everyone here is not one hundred percent convinced we are facing something straight out of Hell, we won’t stand a chance against it. Do you hear me? If a lesser being could trash all of us with no problem, then what can a demon do to us? Do we have enough knowledge to go against something that is so evil and powerful?”

“She’s not that powerful,” Cassandra said, and this time her voice was strong—defiant. “She’s weak. That’s why she is at the mercy of her stooges to bring her what she needs to survive. All we need is to get inside that basement, and goddamn it, I know she’s in there. I sensed her foul spirit when I went there the first day I came from PA.”

“You went there?” Alex asked. “Why?”

Cassandra glanced at Alex and kept quiet for a few long seconds. Finally, clearing her throat, she answered. “The spirit, or whatever the fuck it was, passing as Alberto told me the jar was missing. The same jar I stuffed his soul and the demon inside. Even then, I had a mistrust of what was going on. I thought I was losing my mind, and for no other reason, but to hold to my sanity, I needed to see it for myself. That’s why I went there, and it was right, the jar was missing. And for reasons I thought were right, I poured Holy Water throughout the area, especially by the doors. But as we can all see, what happened to all those girls, if I would have poured a bottle of Coke instead of Holy Water, we would have gotten the same results.”

“We can’t think like that,” Harry said. “If we lose faith and even start bickering with one and another, like Eddie said before, that’s the demon’s plan and we’re playing it right into it.”

“Nikki, and I hope it’s okay to call you Nikki,” Cassandra turned to face her. “You said you needed proof. Let me ask you a question. They involved you in every single case. Did you check the autopsy records from twenty years ago?”

“No, I haven’t, but what will that prove?”

“If the DNA samples from the bite marks on Alberto are the same one from the killer of Jenny Kessler, would that be proof enough that we are dealing with something not from this world?”

“Holy shit, she’s right,” Taylor said. “If they are the same bite marks, that will tell us all we need to know, that we are dealing with the same monster. Nikki, I have no doubts those bite marks from twenty years ago are identical to the ones now.”

“And if they are the same, then what?”

“Then it would tell us who we are dealing with,” Eddie answered as he tapped his fingers on the table and kept his eyes down. “Cassandra mentioned the name Lilith, and if we are to believe that’s her name, then this demon is someone we can’t take lightly. We are dealing with someone not only powerful, but as ancient as life itself.”

“Ancient?” Taylor asked in bewilderment.

“There’s a lot written about female demons,” Eddie began explaining. “The Sirens from the Greek mythology are believed to have been succubus. With their beautiful singing and beauty, they attracted sailors and using their sexuality would kill them.”

“Sounds a bit like this one,” Alex said. “Was she the one who did all this? I mean, if this demon can show herself as a beautiful woman to these men, can she also show herself to Cassandra as her dead husband?”

“No,” Eddie shook his head. “The thing attached to Cassandra, and did all this damage, was not a demon, but more like an ordinary spirit looking to attach itself to any situation that would put them closer to mortality.”

“What?” Cassandra said, her face tightened in horror. “This thing that’s been with me since he came to my house is neither Alberto nor a demon?”

“Yes and no,” Eddie nodded. “In the world of the dead, there are many spirits who refused to follow their destiny, which is the path to God’s kingdom. Now, those spirits remained in limbo, usually staying closer to other stronger beings, like demons, old souls, and even fallen angels. Understand that the afterlife is not much different from our own; it is a mirror-image of this world, where everyone who refuses to follow the journey is trying to climb the ladder of superiority or is comfortable in becoming part of legions. This thing who made you believe was your husband was not really lying to you. When you sealed the jar with both Alberto’s blood and Lilith’s mist, he took that opportunity to put himself into the mix,” Eddie looked around. “Let me explain it better. The succubus was in the middle of developing a human body, that’s how you described her, which means she couldn’t afford to lose your husband’s spirit, if she did, she would have to start again from the beginning, and when demons taste the essence of humanity, they become intoxicated by it.”

“Excuse me,” Alex pointed towards Eddie. “If this thing can take the shape of anything she wants, in this case a beautiful woman, why then is she trying to have a human body?”

“As a demon, she’s a grotesque sight to look at, besides she can only exist in the mind and dreams of us humans. Now, by consuming human energies, which are the unborn babies, by feeding from the flesh and blood of a human beings, the demon is gradually recreating itself into a human form. And when the transformation is successful, then it makes it possible for these creatures to mingle in our world without being discovered. But there are only a few ways they can survive. One is by feeding from the embryos and human blood and flesh.”

“Like a fucking vampire!” Alex leaned back against the chair.

“Yes, Detective Munro, just like a vampire,” Eddie nodded.

“And which is the other way?”

“By entering the body of a human who still possesses part of one of her slave’s souls.”

“Come again?” Cassandra stepped closer to Eddie, not liking how that sounded. “Are you trying to tell me she wants to take over my body?”

“A sick way of reincarnation,” Eddie said bluntly. “But it’s not as easy as the movies make it out to be. Believe me, I know by experience.”

“Holy Jesus,” Cassandra shook her head. “But it’s possible?”

“Not if we can help it. That’s why is important for all of us to stay alert. Our advantage now is that this demon… Lilith, doesn’t have a set of ears to listen to your thoughts now that Alberto’s corrupted spirit is no longer part of you.”

“But how did this thing could get inside my head to begin with?”

“Like I said before, regardless of what he is now, he still has part of Alberto’s spirit, and when he gained his freedom from the jar, he traveled to where he knew another part of his soul was. The one you keep in your heart, and the one inside the strawberry cookie jar he broke the night he became part of you. By you claiming that the spirit was Alberto, you opened the door, and all he had to do was walk in and make your heart his new home.”

“Wait… wait one second. How the hell you know about the cookie jar?” Cassandra shouted. “What the hell are you?”

“I’m a friend who’s going to make sure no harm will touch you again.”

“A friend? Really? If this demon placed a fucking spirit inside of me, who’s saying you’re not her Plan B?”

“Because I’m not,” Eddie’s eyes pierced through Cassandra’s, and she quickly dropped her eyes. “And if I’m Plan B, what reason can I have to sabotage Plan A, when nobody here was aware of it, until I exposed the spirit and removed it from you?”

“Should we trust you?” Alex asked, coming forward and standing next to Cassandra.

“Sure, we can trust him,” Harry answered for Eddie as he stood in front of the group. “Alex, remember you came for my help, and this is one man I abide by. We all saw with our own eyes, a spirit attached to Cassandra, and let’s not forget the way it bounced all over us as if we were bowling pins. If there’s anyone more trained to deal with this than Eddie, he’s not inside this room. Maybe we should stop looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

CHAPTER 37

“I don’t want to hear it,” Harry said as he opened the passenger side door of his car. “I didn’t put up too much of a fight this morning, but like hell I’m putting one up now.”

“I enjoy taking trains,” Eddie said as he stood a few feet from the door that Harry held open. He saw it on the old man’s face that the only way he was going to close it was with him tucked inside.

“Come on, besides, we need to talk more about what the hell happened in there.”

Giving in, Eddie slid inside the car, and Harry slammed the door behind him. Walking around, he opened the driver side door, and before coming in, he coughed heavily on a handkerchief that Eddie doubted would ever see the inside of a washing machine. Harry was dying, and you didn’t have to be a psychic to know it. How long did he have? Eddie refused to read the signs that would reveal to him the grave information.

“Old age is a bitch,” Harry said once he was behind the wheel. “Have you ever met God? Or do you only deal with the scums of demons Mr. Almighty pissed off while trying to create an Eden where everyone must play by His rules?”

“No. I have never met God, and truthfully, I don’t think anybody does,” Eddie said, snapping on the seat belt.

“Maybe He’s a fictional character,” Harry said as he turned on the ignition and pulled away from the curb. “You know, like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. Lies given to new generations by old generations to keep everyone in line.”

“With that theory, maybe you’ll be the first one to have the pleasure to meet God.”

“Nah,” Harry coughed some more. This time taking deep inhales to keep whatever was inside his lungs  from coming out. “If He knows better, the last person He wants to break bread with, or whatever they are fucking eating up there, is me. I have a truckload full of questions I must ask Mr. Almighty, and I don’t think He has any answers. Maybe He does, but not the answers I want.”

“You sound like an atheist, trying to decide if he should believe or not.”

“Grew up as a good old Catholic boy. Even did my stint as an altar boy. Made my mom proud as hell. My father, on the other hand, a hard-drinking longshoreman, despised it. The old man was not too pleased to see his son, as he called it, wearing a fucking dress. He never was a fan of the church and hated the priests. Called them lazy assholes hiding behind a fake book to live on the hard-earned dollars of poor people. When his heart blew up at sixty-one, we had to take him to a church across town, because our own parish was not too Christian-like to let a man like my father get his last rite in front of their self-righteous altar. So, let’s keep it real between me and the man from upstairs. We have a good understanding—until he proved to me otherwise, I think He’s not one of the good guys. I’ll keep questioning this blinded fanatical bullshit people have of religion. And so far, like they say, the ‘proof is in the pudding’, well, the pudding He’s offering, its key ingredient is shit.”

“Maybe the argument you have is with what man has done with God, rather than God Himself,” Eddie said as he watched the lovely view of the city from the Queensboro Bridge's upper level. “Every religion tries to claim God as their own Lord. Adjusting His message to what they want to believe, what to preach and what scriptures to erase from those who come to them for guidance.”

“There’s no difference. When you look at the history of all religions, sometimes I wonder who’s the actual devil in this mix. They have spilled a lot of innocent blood in the name of the Lord and Christianity.”

“Probably it’s time you should only deal with God and not what man has written in His name. There are some beliefs in Buddhism that compare religion as many rivers and God as the ocean. Sometimes, it makes more sense to go straight to the ocean, rather than taking one of those rivers.”

“I like that, but coming from a man like you, Eddie, it sounds like a bunch of hypocrisy.”

“Why is that?”

“I mean, you deal with demons. You speak to the dead…shit…today you became Detective Brandon’s dead grandmother with all the whistles and bells. You confronted a spirit who trashed everyone inside that room. Goddamn, it even split a hard-mahogany table in half. So, my question is what’s your religion? Or are you above all that?”

“I’m a practicing Catholic.”

“Which means you have chosen a river as your path, instead of going straight to the ocean. Why?”

“There are times you need to keep the boatman employed. Also, you don’t know who you might meet who requires directions to the ocean.”

Harry exited the bridge and, stopping at the red light, glanced at Eddie. “Now, what about the other stuff you practice? Is that also a religion, or is it something beyond man’s lack of understanding?”

“It is also a religion. One of the oldest in the world. Derived from the Yoruba African tribe, and brought here by kings and queens who they snatched from their homes and enslaved here—”

“In the name of the Christian God,” Harry interrupted. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“No need to apologize,” Eddie said as he watched the neighborhoods decline as Harry drove closer to Spanish Harlem. “It’s a lot to digest, and just like politics, these are two subjects where you find many strong-minded individuals willing to protect what they believe as the truth.”

“So, tell me Eddie. What’s the truth in your book?”

“I don’t know. Every day, I learned something new. You either find out what you thought was the truth is a lie, and what were lies becomes unquestionable facts. But to answer your question. I follow the Santeria religion, and I also have devoted myself to study other forms of spirituality. Like I said, every day is a good day to learn something new.”

“You’re not shitting about that,” Harry made a left and drove towards Madison Avenue. “Now, about today, I was keeping my eyes on you, especially when Cassandra was telling her story. If I could read minds, I know I would have gotten more than my share from what you were thinking. Us cops are a bit like guys like you. Our intuitions are razor sharp as well, and watching you today, just like I did the first time we met, you know more than you will volunteer to the group. Why is that?”

Eddie kept his eyes forward. For the entire ride, not once did he look at Harry. But the long ride from Queens to East Harlem, as much as he tried to put up a wall and not see Harry’s situation, he knew the old Detective didn’t have long to live, and because of that Eddie knew that what he kept from the others inside that room, Harry had a right to know, for whatever it was worth. Therefore, he told Harry to pull over. At first, Eddie thought a visit to Millie’s and have a nice plate of arroz con pollo y maduros would have been a better place to talk, but with what he needed to tell Harry, he couldn’t afford for it to fall on uninvited ears. And so, this meant sitting by the curb inside the car, while smelling Harry’s unavoidable death, would have to do.

“First, I must tell you about who Lilith is, and let’s pray it is a name this demon took to honor the real Lilith,” Eddie began. “Because if she’s the real deal, it will not be easy, especially if by now, her transformation to human is already underway.”

“Eddie, I’m lost. Smart people usually do that to me. So, how about taking it slow and telling me who Lilith is and what makes her such a big deal?” Harry said with a chuckle thrown in.

“Okay, fair enough,” Eddie said, unsnapping the seatbelt and opening the window a few inches. “Her name has been part of the legends in Greek and Jewish mythology and even in the Books of Enoch.”

“There you go again, making me feel dumb. What are books of… whatever was that name you used?”

“When they wrote the Bible, there were a few books, which they felt lacked the spiritual beliefs and because of that they removed it from the Old Testament. They believed several of those books to be written by Enoch, who only appears in a few passages in today’s Bible. He was a loyal servant to God and his faith made him a favorite. God was immensely pleased with him and, as it’s written, the Lord took him away. Exactly what that means, nobody really knows. There are scholars who are still arguing about it because there’s no mention of how he died. Anyway, in those books, Enoch wrote that when God created man and woman from the earth, He breathed in them the breath of life. God named them Adam and Lilith. He created them both at the same time, yet God made Adam superior over Lilith. You can imagine that didn’t fare well with Lilith. She was a strong-willed woman, and she vowed not to be below Adam, and demanded the superior position. To stop the bickering, God sat down with them to come up with a solution, but Lilith refused to listen to either one of them. She became angry, and corrupting the holy name of God, she leaped into the air and flew away. Finding himself alone, Adam complained to God that the woman He had given him had left him. God sent three angels to bring her back in the name of His authority, but Lilith refused and the angrier she became, she changed into this ugly and demonic creature. Because of it, God spoke into Lilith’s heart and told her that since her chosen path was against His, it would keep her evil until she dies. That was her curse, her punishment. In defiance, Lilith said that she would become a creature who would cause sickness, kill children, and would always torment men. From that day on, she completed her demonic transformation, accepted Satan as her father, and became a succubus. Harry, that’s who we are facing. Maybe this demon comes from the lineage of the first Lilith. I don’t know. However, we are dealing with a powerful force.”

“Sweet Jesus, what chance do we have against this thing?” Harry asked as a coughing attack shook his entire body.

“Harry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Nothing to worry about.”

“Well, for starters, you’ll be sitting this one out. You already did your part—”

“Like fucking hell I am!” Harry snarled and coughed some more. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and took small breaths, until the tickle in his throat subsided. He leaned forward and rubbed his face hard. “Eddie, we both know my days are counted. Shit, I even withdrew every penny from the bank and stopped paying rent. My wife died of cancer at an early age, so we had no children. There’s a nephew that I’m leaving everything I own to. The cash is already in his hands, along with my life insurance papers, with his name as the beneficiary. I’m ready to leave this world and join my dear wife. But there’s one thing I refuse to do, and that’s to die sitting in the dark alone like a useless piece of shit. No fucking way. Eddie, I’m heading straight out from this hell with my gun blazing like a fucking kamikaze!”

CHAPTER 38

A mixture of anger and fear rushed within, causing Alberto to shuddered at the thought of facing Lilith’s wrath. The confusion that rattled him was still there after Eddie not only spotted him but dismissed him like a common fly. Alberto thought about escaping, but ultimately, when you’re attached to someone like Lilith—running away is not an option. There’s no place to go when the two entities were part of a fusion of souls, and now that she was in the last stage to gain what had alluded her for centuries, how could he explain to Lilith this man? The fury that would consume her when she learned he could no longer communicate with Cassandra would be a rage he didn’t want to witness. He imagined how her bravado would weaken because there was no way she could have expected that someone like this man could even exist in the land of the living. Alberto could detect the powerful sense of the afterlife in the man, yet he was still flesh and bone. Who the hell was he? Regardless, they had to remove him from Lilith’s equation. Otherwise, Alberto dreaded at the destruction this man could do.

Following Lilith’s telepathy guidance, Alberto went past the dripping, broken pipes and into a long corridor that led to a door at the end. He stopped and waited for her instructions to come in. His uneasiness at what to expect from Lilith drove him insane.

“You may enter,” Lilith growled, and Alberto staggered in. She sized him up, her eyes two torching spheres of pure venom. “It was only a simple plan you needed to do. Tell me then, how it became this unacceptable failure?”

Alberto’s words quivered, and lifting one hand, Lilith silenced him. She glared at him, and her first instinct was to destroy him, annulled by what she created, but under the circumstances, she knew she couldn’t be that hasty. Bringing the woman here was not turning out according to her plans, but there were other ways to achieve what she wanted. Regardless, she couldn’t let Alberto think incompetence was acceptable. “Your instructions were simple. Even a babbling fool could have easily fulfilled them. Indeed, educate me, you imbecile. Enlighten me, how a group of mere pathetic humans could cast you out without even putting up a fight? They controlled you as easy as you deal with a crying toddler. How was that possible?”

“I beg for your forgiveness, but there’s a man among them who is not an ordinary man. He has the smell of the afterlife pouring out of his pores, and there’s a shield around him that protects him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this man is gifted, maybe an entity from somewhere between Heaven and Hell.”

“Gifted? A fallen angel?”

“Yes, Lilith, how else can we explain his knowledge of the underworld as if he had lived there.”

Moving away from the shadows, Lilith paced back and forth, her mind a clutter of queries, fueled by this strange man that, unless he was dealt with quickly, would become a thorn in her side.

“Tell me more about this man,” Lilith asked, although she was aware of humans with the gift of speaking to spirits, but what Alberto was implying couldn’t be possible. How could this human have walked in the realms of the living and the dead? “Tell me, is he made from flesh and bones? Can we kill him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you try to kill him?”

‘No, Lilith. He was too powerful. I couldn’t even get close to him.”

Pondering Alberto’s information, Lilith laid down on the cot and stared at the ceiling. “They are planning a war, that much I have gathered. This man’s gift will be used to our advantage if you stay away from him. Cassandra is another story. Keep your presence hidden from her, but do not leave her side.”

“Yes, Lilith, but won’t she be ready now? What about this man? Can he find a way to protect her?”

“As long as you keep your distance. Stay silent. Become part of her shadows. Part of the breeze that comes through her window. I’m sure this man you have given so much importance will not be with her day and night. I want them to feel invincible because of this man. Trust me, after today they believe they can destroy me, and that’s alright. The best opponent is the one who celebrates a victory before the battle begins. I’ll put fear in each of their hearts tonight. And one by one, they’ll lose the bravado they felt today. By tomorrow, they’ll be at each other’s throats. They will question each other’s steps. That’s their nature. Why do you think it is so easy to control them? They are only children who have accepted being born with the guilt of sin, and they always die asking for forgiveness. They fear a Supreme Being they have never seen and worship a book written by men, and passed as the final, glorious words from gods and goddesses. They have erected many golden castles while they go hungry, all for a blind faith. That’s why these fools will follow a simple man who only dabbles with weak spirits. Will he dare speak to me? Go on and attach yourself to this woman, and the others as well tonight as they sleep. But stay away from the gifted one. I’ll deal with him in a different way. Go on, leave me for I need to rest, and Alberto... do not disappoint me again.”

Lilith watched him go and stretched out on the cot. She was tired of all the running, all the planning, and sometimes all she wanted was to end it all. Return to the rivers of Hades and put all the hate and angst of vengeance to rest. Her Father would understand. Then again, would he? She dismissed the thought from her mind. For how many times in her existence had she wondered if it was best to let it all be and go and finally rest. Dream once more when her life was a bundle of joy and laughter. Lilith smiled. She envisioned the beautiful, shaded sun during dusk in the valley they had called home. The perfume of the wildflowers that mingled with the evening breeze and entered through the open windows carrying their fragrant scent. Those beautiful flowers that both Zyamaza and Dunesa, her lovely daughters, adorned their hair with. Lilith remembered their giggles, their sweet innocence as they took turn fashioning crowns from the many colorful flowers that grew along the side of the road. Her lovely daughters would pretend to be princesses, getting ready for an extravagant ball where handsome princes waited for them in jeweled carriages drawn by mighty white horses. She shook her head, the darkness of her anger boiling. Where was the harm that her people represented to His world? They lived away from His children and His precious Eden. There was no conflict between both races, so why the hostility against them? Had His hatred for her father blinded Him to destroy anything erected by Lucifer? Wasn’t her father the glorious Morning Star in Heaven? Was the Lord’s wrath created by vanity? Not wanting to accept that not everyone glorifies in His ways. If He gave all His creations the free will to choose for themselves, then why the anger for those who choose to go against Him? Where is the love He professed through His son’s death and resurrection? Were the lives of a woman and her two young daughters a threat to His existence?

A soulful wail escaped her, and Lilith clutched her heart. Standing up, she moved around the small room, hating the way they forced her to live in captivity. But not for long, she vowed, pushing her sentiments away, for they only brought weaknesses. Sending a telekinetic message to Mike, she was pleased he had turned out better than she had expected when she wrapped him in her web. She knew the fight for her survival was near, and unless Mike supplied her with more human embryos, she would be too weak to fight them. Especially the strange man who Alberto spoke about. It was nothing new about humans with the ability to communicate with both worlds, but in Alberto’s dialogue, this man possessed the smell of the underworld. But how could that be possible? Had this man walked on the soil of Hades? Had he cheated death? Or did God spawn Heaven’s moles to mingle among His children? Anything was possible with this egotistical Lord. How this man became a power to reckon with is what she needed to find out. Lilith nodded. She must stay alert and wary of his whereabouts. She must unearth his weaknesses. Everyone has a frail link in their armor. Obviously, he was not a god!

Lilith walked back to the cot and sat on the edge and stared straight ahead. There must be someone in the bowels of the netherworld who might know who he is. If he had the smell of death, then there was no way he moved around them unnoticed. She stood up again and walked out of the room, and Lilith was pleased about how her limbs were becoming stronger and stopping by the closed door that led to the outside world, Lilith placed one hand on the metal surface and closed her eyes. She heard life, the laughter of children, the shouts of joy. Through a small slit of the door, she felt the breeze caress her, and once again, the memories of when she was human-like filled her with bitter nostalgia. To her amazement, a tear rolled down her cheek and fell silently to the ground. Sliding down, she sat on the concrete floor, and with her back pressed on the door frame, she put her arms around her knees and lowered her head. And Lilith cried, and between sobs, she called out her daughters’ names, for the last time; “Zyamasa. Dunesa.”

CHAPTER 39

Cassandra finished fastening the seatbelt when Alex got inside the car. He had offered her a lift to her place, and she had reluctantly accepted. Besides, after what had occurred, and the toll it had taken on her, all she wanted was to get to her place and try to piece together all that had transpired. She couldn't imagine that the meeting only lasted two hours, for it seemed so much had transpired in a short time. Her mind was still racing, and she kept reliving the horrifying ordeal that an evil spirit had infiltrated her body and had shared her every thought. She was grateful towards Eddie, for freeing her from the spirit who had claimed to be Alberto, although she continued to be frightened by him. Especially when it was unimaginable to learn who Eddie was. She remembered when everyone met in front of the precinct, Eddie kept to himself, which at first, she didn’t even think he was part of the group until they started filing in. It didn’t take long for Cassandra to notice the peculiar way he kept looking at her. He tried to be discreet, but when individuals are huddled together in a small room, discretion is hard to find. She dismissed it as a sign of him being smitten by her. Not that Cassandra was a conceited bubblehead, but she knew she was an attractive woman. Hey, if you have it, don’t be shy, but flaunt it; that was her creed. Despite that, Eddie was not looking at her like that—not with that wolf-like adolescent adulation—it was more as if she was a specimen. There were a few times she wanted to confront him but knowing how the two detectives who were running the show saw her already, she ignored him. It was a completely life-changing experience, not only for her, but Cassandra was damn sure for everyone. Who the hell had thought that a man who appeared to be an uncontroversial person, would turn out to be as spooky as the thing that was piggybacking on her. Eddie was a mysterious man, and she now realized the reason for his staring at her. He was not keeping an eye on her, but rather an eye on Alberto.

Now, here she was, getting door-to-door car service by one of the detectives, and with plans for meeting again and preparing to go into battle with a demon and her stooge.

“Hell of a way to spend an afternoon,” Alex said, pulling Cassandra away from her thoughts. “I’ll tell you right now I don’t know if I should laugh out loud or check myself into a loony bin. Maybe I should go up to the roof and shout it out so everyone could hear what we are planning to do. Hopefully, someone with more sense than us would tell us we are all experiencing a bout of group hallucination. Still, what we all saw, it’s too hard to dismiss it.”

“How much longer before anyone will realize what’s going on?” Cassandra asked, brushing her hair with one hand, and closing her eyes for a second.

Alex rotated the question, which was the whammy of all queries, and he cringed at the excuse he must come up with for his superiors to explain the damaged table inside the conference room. His name was on the paperwork to reserve the conference room. He brushed it aside. He would deal with it at the proper time. Now there were more serious things to worry about.

“We should sell this story to Netflix when all this is finished,” Alex said, trying to bring some humor while turning the ignition on.

“You’re not kidding, that’s how all this shit feels like; a crazy movie that refuses to end,” Cassandra said, her sight fixed in front of her. “What the hell can we do against something like that?”

“It all begins with getting inside that basement. One thing I’m sure of is that the super is involved. We need to go after him, and then take it from there.”

“You missed the point,” Cassandra said. “If this super is her slave, she will just get another one. Do you believe that by stopping this man, we’re also going to stop her?”

“She’s trapped inside that basement, and after we take him out of the equation, no other men can step inside and end up at her mercy. She’ll be weak and vulnerable.”

“Oh, Lord, hear yourself out. You think it’s going to be that easy? And if no other man is going to go inside the basement, what that means? That it will be up to myself and Nikki to battle with this monster?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, we… us men, would go in, but we need to be more prepared. If not, she’ll seduce us.”

“Is that a fact?” Cassandra laughed. “Remember, she’s an old pro in seduction.”

“True, but only if she comes into our dreams.”

“I don’t think that’s her way of conducting business anymore. I wish I could believe it, but at this moment I’m convinced she has developed new tricks in her arsenal.”

“Like what? Hypnotizing them?”

“I’m sure it must be something like that. On that night, I saw my husband lusting for her, as if she was goddamn Miss Universe, when what I saw was this hideous decaying monster. How the hell can you go up against something like that?”

“I’ll leave that to the spirit expert. You know, the witch doctor.”

“You mean Eddie. His name is Eddie. I wish you would stop calling him all those stupid names.”

“Okay, Eddie the spirit expert. Is that better? But whatever name I give him, I still have my doubts about him. I’m not even trusting him to be our savior.”

“We have no other choice but to have faith in him. And between all of us, he knows more about what was going on.”

“Lady, I grew up in a household where faith was served like mints after dinner, and I’m the first one to tell you that faith is all a crock of shit. Excuse my French. Faith is the fool’s belief everything will turn out for the best, regardless of if you’re told it might take a lifetime of suffering to get to the promised land. It’s pathetic that under this faith bullshit, they keep dreaming, keep feeding the collecting plate and light a candle for their faithful saint!”

“Do you know you’re a big walking contradiction?”

“Really? Is that so?”

“During the meeting, you came to defend not only me, but Eddie as well, when Nikki questioned what she saw with her own eyes. It seems like you guys are not taking this seriously.”

“I can’t speak about the others, but I’m taking it as serious as I can. Yes, you’re right, I sound a bit contradictory, but did you forget I was the one who started this whole thing rolling?”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but who’s saying you didn’t do it just to piss your partner off?”

“Come on, I’m not that mean,” Alex said, laughing. “But I never imagined that Taylor knew more about this hocus-pocus than he led me to believe.”

“Yes, that was intense. For a second, I thought he was going to deck Eddie. Lucky for Eddie that you stepped in.”

“Lucky for Eddie?” Alex made a left onto Queens Boulevard. “Nah, I don’t think so. I think this Eddie guy has some scary shit up his sleeve.”

“Who knows anything anymore? But he really creeped me out when he started talking like a Caribbean woman.”

“You, of all the shit you’ve been through, Eddie gives you the creeps?”

“Yes, he does. One thing is to be part of everything that’s evil and most likely comes from hell, but this guy is one of us. He’s human, and yet he knows so much about it. And when he mentioned about spending time on the other side, the land of the dead. I don’t know, but that’s way too much for me to digest.”

“As much as I don’t feel that comfortable with him, I must go by what Harry said, and you heard for yourself, the old guy vouched for him,” Alex said, taking a quick glance at Cassandra.

“I guess I need to trust more, especially knowing that some demon might be after me for what I did to her, and she’s now bent on reincarnating through me or something like that. Jesus, I should have never come to this damn place,” Cassandra rubbed her arms, then pointed at the corner of Thirty-Ninth Street. “We’re almost here, maybe a good shower and some shut eye will give me some strength.”

“Damn,” Alex sighed. “You’re a brave one. I’ll be a basket case by now, knowing some demon is after me. How do you do it?”

“I just concluded that whatever is going to happen will happen. Which means, I have two options, get myself sick by worrying, or do something about it; and that’s what I’ve been doing for the past twenty years, fighting back.”

“But you’re not afraid?”

“Hell yeah, I’ve been afraid since that monster revealed herself to me twenty years ago. I don’t remember the last time I had a full eight hours of sleep. I have only just started sleeping with the lights off. For a long time, my bedroom resembled Times Square.”

“Must have been hard for the man in your life.”

“Alberto was the last man in my life. After the ordeal I went through, I turned away from men completely.”

“They said that it’s not healthy to stay by yourself all your life.”

“Is there a Mrs. waiting for you at home?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re preaching about living alone? There’s an old saying in Spanish, ‘enseñando moral en carzonsilo’.”

“I heard that from my mother, ‘teaching morals wearing underwear.”

“Holy shit!” Cassandra leaned back against the door as she looked at Alex as if she just discovered a new species. “You’re a Latino?”

“Half Puerto Rican, half Scottish.”

“Damn honey, God sure gypped you out from the Puerto Rican genes, that’s for sure.”

“The genes are there, just hidden.”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Claro que si, Señorita,” Alex said, a broad smile filling his face. “Hablo Español bien chevere.”

“Did you just say ‘chevere’? My God, I haven’t heard that word since forever. Where did you learn how to speak Spanish? From listening to old Fania All-Stars records? What’s next? Groovy?”

“Okay, I never admitted being fluent, but it’s understandable, besides I loved it when I caught people talking about me in Spanish and I shocked them. Which side of the street do you live?”

“I don’t need door-to-door service. You can drop me at the corner. I haven’t eaten since last night, and I want to pick up some Chinese takeout before I go in.”

“Care for some company? I forgot the last time I saw a fork and a knife. A diet of coffee and stale doughnuts is not cutting it anymore.”

“Sure. Any suggestions?”

“What are you in the mood for? The beauty of Sunnyside is the great selection of different cuisines; Italian, Colombian, Peruvian, Mexican, Indian, Chinese, Thai, damn, I think they can find every cuisine here.”

“Except Puerto Rican,” Cassandra said, waving a hand around her.

“True,” Alex said. “But close to here, there’s an excellent little restaurant, ‘Freakin Rican Restaurant’, it’s like having your Abuela cooking for you.”

“Sounds great,” Cassandra said, clapping her hands. “I never had an Abuela, so let’s go, you could introduce me to yours.”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry—”

“No need to be, unless you’re sorry for calling me a man,” Cassandra said, laughing. “Please, the stories I have heard from those who grew up with the old traditional family, I think God did me a hell of a favor. Oops, can you use God and Hell in the same sentence?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy, after growing up in a Pentecostal household, I became an atheist.”

This time, Cassandra laughed hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Lord, you are one fucked up dude. A Puerto Rican who looks Irish, a Hallelujah boy who went rogue, and a cop who’s sick and tired of eating donuts.”

“Yep, that’s the story of my life,” Alex said as he signaled to the left, going across Queens Boulevard, then sailed into Thirty-Ninth Street, and headed towards Astoria where Freakin Rican Restaurant was.

It was a short drive, that if they had wanted to park the car and walk, it would have been a nice twenty-minute stroll. Alex drove over the Thirty-Nine Street bridge, then taking a right on Northern Boulevard straight to Thirty-Fourth Avenue, where he made a sharp left to Forty-Third Street. Going around twice looking for parking was enough as Alex pulled over a hydrant and shut off the ignition.

“Hey, buddy, maybe I’ve been away from New York for some time, but the last time I checked, it’s illegal to park in front of a fire hydrant,” Cassandra said with a smile.

“Yes, it’s still illegal, but those are the benefits you get when you’re an underpaid cop; you can park anywhere you want.”

“Isn’t that rubbing your badge on the hard-working citizen who pays your salary?”

“Hey, I pay taxes too,” Alex tried to defend his actions.

“I’m not saying you don’t, but this is hypocritical to park by a pump, and then tomorrow you give a ticket to someone who’s doing the same thing as you.”

“I’m a Detective, my giving tickets day are over.”

“That’s beside the point.” Cassandra was adamant about her argument. “My point is you’re a cop and going by the laws and observing them starts with you.”

Alex stared at Cassandra for a long time, not missing how beautiful this woman was, especially when her toughness—her assertiveness—kicked into overdrive. He tried to do the math in his head of their age difference, maybe a good ten to fifteen years between them. Still, he was taken by her. There was a certain fire in her, and the only word that popped in his head to describe her was—fighter. Any other time, with any other woman, he would have ignored her and park anywhere, but with Cassandra, something in him wanted to please her. He gave her a humorous salute, put the car back in Drive, and looked for parking, and Lord and behold, a car was pulling out from a parking spot maybe five feet away from the restaurant. He felt captivated when Cassandra smiled at him and patted his arm.

“I think the good Lord is trying to make you rethink this atheist thing,” Cassandra said, unsnapping the seat belt.

The small restaurant was a sea of bright and colorful decor, and mouthwatering aromas filtering from the kitchen. There were no tables available, but as Alex and Cassandra were walking in, a couple were walking out.

“Yep, the Good Lord is really outdoing Himself tonight,” Cassandra joked. “He wants that lost little sheep back in His stable.”

“Have Him send me the six winning Lotto numbers, and not only will I run to the stable, but I’ll also kill any wolf in sheep’s clothing with my bare hands,” Alex said as they followed the waiter to the intimate table at the end of the dining area.

Alex insisted on ordering, and knowing he had been here many times before, Cassandra agreed. They shared appetizers of alcapurrias, and two papa rellenas. For him, Alex ordered the pernil with arroz con gandules, and for Cassandra the bistec encebollado. They tried each other’s plate, while washing down their unbelievable dishes with mango shakes.

“Wow,” Cassandra took the last piece of bread and rotated around the empty bowl of beans and savored every bite. “So, this is how your Abuela cooks?”

“I hope she doesn’t find out, she’s a wonderful cook, but not like this.”

“Then you fucking lied to me,” Cassandra said with no malice. “What the hell was all that talk about this place been as if Abuela was cooking?”

“I was just quoting the reviews,” Alex said, and both he and Cassandra started laughing, hard enough to get the attention of the other diners.

“Yep,” Cassandra said between chuckles. “You are a lost cause.”

“Any dessert? Coffee?” Alex asked as he got the waitress attention.

“Oh, my God, I’m too full,” Cassandra said, shaking her head.

“Let’s share a flan. A Puerto Rican dinner is not complete until you have un café con leche and flan.”

“Okay, you’ve talked me into it,” Cassandra smiled. “But don’t get any ideas that this woman is easy. Let’s say after eating Chinese food and burgers for the past month, I might as well go all the way with this feast.”

“I’m surprised. There are many restaurants in Sunnyside. Why didn’t you go into a few of them?”

“I was keeping a low profile. And of course, the last man I wanted to bump into again was the old sicko from the pub.”

“Gotcha,” Alex said, as the waitress approached their table.

“Best meal in the world,” Cassandra complemented. “So, I’m told you have a few abuelitaschained to the stove. Is that true?”

“We are an equal employer. We also have a few abuelitos chained back there as well,” the server smiled. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Dos café con leche y un flan, por favor,” Alex said.

“Muy bien,” the waitress said and walked away.

“So, how did you learn Spanish? Usually kids don’t speak the language, especially in your case with a non-Latino father,” Cassandra asked.

“My mother and I would spend every summer in Puerto Rico. I could speak it every day, but now I seldom use it. Your Spanish is obviously better than mine.”

“Not really, it’s more Spanglish, growing up from foster homes to foster home. I’m lucky I learned it in the first place. There was no guarantee they would place me in a Spanish household.”

“That must have been rough,” Alex said, making room when the waitress came back with the coffee and dessert.

“It was the only thing I knew, so I adapted to it,” Cassandra said, stirring a few spoons of sugar in the coffee. “I learned how to survive on my own, and to live with the essentials. Even living now in a house, it’s only furnished with the things that I need.”

“Any reason you moved to Pennsylvania?”

“A girl I met in one of the foster homes became the closest thing to a sister. We always stayed in touch. Her and her husband run a real estate agency in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. They heard about what happened to me, and she came right away to New York to be with me. After they released me from the hospital and they dropped all charges, she insisted on my moving away from here. Start a new life, was how she put it. I didn’t think twice about it. It’s a peaceful place, and I began a new life for myself.”

“Hope you don’t mind me asking, but someone as beautiful as you, why stay single? Are the men in Lancaster blind?”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Cassandra said as she took a small piece of the flan. A bit of the syrup was on her lip, and she passed her tongue to lick the syrup. “I dated here and there, but it was as if I had erected a wall around me. I refused to allow anyone to go over. After a while, I decided to be alone… I guess that’s my nature, a loner. What about you?”

“The life in law enforcement is a tough life. Few women want to be the second banana to a job. Maybe someday, when I least expect it, someone will come into my life, so, just like you, I’m happy as a loner.”

“I didn’t say I was happy.”

“No?”

“Content, yes… happy? That’s an entire lifestyle I know little about.”

“Maybe it’s time to break down that wall.”

“Nah, I’m comfortable with my wall… it’s like the little blue blanket of Linus from the Peanuts cartoon,” Cassandra finished the coffee and pushed the plate with a bite left of the flan to Alex. “Thank you for dinner, and I insist on going Dutch.”

“Please, it’s my treat,” Alex said, taking out his wallet and fishing out a credit card. “You get the next one.”

“Oh, is, that right?” Cassandra said as the waitress took Alex’s credit card and the check. “There’s going to be a next one?”

Alex smiled like a schoolboy, and he knew he was blushing by the warmth on his cheeks.

They stepped out into a cool night as Cassandra glanced at her watch and followed Alex to the car.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Alex said, opening the car door for Cassandra. “As we planned, the meeting is going to be held in Nikki’s office. From where you’re at, it’s a pain in the ass to get there by bus and train.”

“I was planning on taking a taxi.”

“I’ll pick you up, save your money. You’re going to need it when we meet for dinner again,” Alex said, as he turned on the car and pulled away from the curb.

“What do we have here?” Cassandra said. “A smooth operator?”

“Just a man that loves good food and brilliant company,” Alex laughed. “So where to now?”

“Home, if you don’t mind?”

“Okay,” Alex said as he drove towards Sunnyside. “After what happened today, you’ll be okay?”

“Yes, I’m a big girl, been doing it all my life.”

“Just wondering, especially now that we know what’s behind the thing that was around you.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be okay.”

“But in case you change your mind, I have an extra room in my apartment.”

“Are you inviting me to spend a night in your place?”

“Just for your safety,” Alex smiled.

“Thank you, but I’m sorry. I’m not that kind of woman… besides, I don’t think you’ll be able to handle twenty years’ worth of celibacy.”

To be continued...