Caterpillar, a Paranormal Romance With a Touch of Horror (23 page)

Her long, blonde hair flowed over the side of the tub and nearly covered the man beneath her.  The top of his dark head peeked out from under the hair at her left shoulder, his broad hands splayed across her bottom and one of his hairy legs, bent at the knee, was sticking up between hers. 

Above their heads were thick, circular swipes of blood, bright red against the white tile surround.  Stuck in the blood were polaroids of the couple having sex in several different positions.  “Tira” was printed at the bottom of each of the pictures.

Retracing my steps out the bathroom door, I turned and ran out of the house in search of the policeman that was supposed to meet me there.  I saw him at the curb, leaning against his patrol car.  He straightened when he saw me.  I took off down the steps toward him.  He turned his body to the side, his left foot forward, right hand on the butt of his gun, a defensive stance.  I guess he thought I was going attack him.

Agitated, I stopped in front of him and explained what I’d found.  The cop called something in on the radio at his shoulder.  He took his gun from the holster at his side, told me to stay where I was and he went inside.

Carter’s house soon became the circus that I’d recently seen develop a few too many times.  Events unfolded much as they always did at a murder scene, at least the ones I’d seen.  I was sitting on the curb, counting the minutes until my two favorite detectives arrived to question me, but they never came. 

It was about thirty minutes later when Tegan pulled up.  He got out, stood at the curb and waited while a dark, unmarked Ford pulled to a stop in front of him.  Two men got out of the Ford and came to stand with Tegan.  I sat quietly on the curb and watched them. 

At a distance, the two other detectives could’ve been twins.  They were both short and dumpy; both looked to be in their early forties.  They had short, dark hair, slicked back and gleaming with a liberal amount of some kind of hair product.  They both had mustaches, they both had on brown suits and they both had on horizontally striped ties.  When one would gesture, the other would mimic it.  When one changed his stance, the other changed his stance.  When one shook his head, the other shook his head. 

The two men talked to Tegan for several minutes, both gesticulated animatedly, one on a slight delay.  Tegan must’ve said something amusing because both men laughed.  They both even had gaps between their two front teeth.  I thought to myself bemusedly that it was like watching the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum of law enforcement. 

It occurred to me as I watched the Tweedles that such an important task as finding and stopping a killer could not be left in their hands alone.  It was then that I knew that my gift had a definite purpose.  I was going to use it to help Tegan find the killer and stop him before any more innocent people died.   I had a mission.

Tegan left the couple and walked over to me.  I reached up to straighten my hair, pulling it over my left eye.

“Couple of local boys want to ask you a few questions.  Shouldn’t take long.  Sounds like they’re willing to cooperate with us if it looks like the same MO.”

“Alright.  I figured it was coming.  Bring it on,” I said with resignation.  Tegan turned back to Dee and Dum and motioned for them to approach.  As they made their way toward me, Tegan turned and walked toward the house.

I answered some light questioning, Dee and Dum not coming up with anything I hadn’t heard before.  Three times before to be exact.  I could almost give them answers before they asked the questions, but I didn’t want to confuse them. 

I was surprised when, after only a few minutes, Tegan offered to follow me home.  “You mean that’s it?”

“No. 
I
have some questions, too.  Remember, we’re in a different jurisdiction this time.  Your name’ll be in reports in
two
counties now.  You’re famous,” he informed me, herding me along to Yota.  “Come on, I’ll follow you home.”

I drove to my house.  I was still feeling a little jumpy after the cat incident.  Add to that another murder and the strange yet powerful attraction I felt toward Tegan and I was feeling pretty antsy.  And the incongruity of it was extremely disconcerting. 

I waited for him to park behind me.  When he got out, I said, “I guess you want to come in and grill me, huh?”

His voice was a low, scratchy rumble, like velvet.  “Something like that,” he said.  Something about the way he said it made it sound wicked, like he had much,
much
more in mind. 

I tried to ignore the tingle of sheer pleasure that danced along my nerves.  We walked to the front door together in silence.  On some level, I noticed that the cat was nowhere to be found, but I didn’t give it much thought.  I wondered absently if he had gone back to Aunt Jillian’s.  A crashing sound ripped my focus away from Tegan and back to the inky night.  We both stopped, turning our heads toward the sound. 

Tegan was on high alert.  He was perfectly still, but I could feel his tension, his readiness, like electricity in the air.  It hummed all around him.  He reminded me of a rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike.

A dark figure, possibly the one I’d “seen” stepping onto the front porch earlier, emerged from the bushes.  Even when he stepped into the low light coming from the window, he was still cloaked in deep shadow, like he carried the dark, the blackness, within him.  He didn’t move particularly quickly.  He more
lumbered
, like someone capable of brute force but also a debilitating clumsiness.

When he came at me, I stumbled backward.  He hoisted something into the air then lunged.  Before I could react, Tegan stepped in front of me, shielding my body with his own.  I saw Tegan catch the man’s weapon between his hands then turn it back on him.  Tegan jammed the object into the man’s chest, the crunch of bones shattering the otherwise silent night. 

Dumbfounded, I watched the man fall to the ground.  Degree by degree, the darkness that surrounded him receded, draining away like he was shedding blackness rather than blood.  It revealed a skull covered in deathly pale skin—and nothing else.  There were no eyes or nose or mouth.  No hair, no
face.
  The thin skin enveloped his entire misshapen skull then webbed out and connected to his shoulders. 

I watched his body wiggle and contort, the darkness continuing to abate, revealing more pale skin.  A thin membrane connected his arms to his trunk and his legs to one another.  It spread like gauze between his fingers and toes.  As his thrashing slowed, so did his transformation, leaving him a deformed rectangular lump covered in thin, fibrous skin.

He began to make a strange gurgling noise, as if something wet was caught in his throat, and then he exploded into millions of tiny black spiders.  They scattered in every direction, disappearing into the earth in a flurry of clambering legs. 

I jumped up, scrambling away from the spiders.  I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from squealing.  When the spiders were gone, I stood staring at the spot where the body had lain only moments before.  I finally looked over to Tegan.  He was standing with a wooden stake in his hand, his breathing labored.  He looked at me and I could see the sheen of perspiration on his face.

“What just happened?”

“I just destroyed a golem.”

“What about all those spiders?”

“Spiders are carriers of evil.”

“Carriers?’

“Yes.  They can contain it, hold it within themselves.  They’re like empty vessels.  Once they’re filled, they become slaves to the demon who…sort of
owns
them.  They do their master’s will.”

Something was tickling at the back of my mind, but I was far from thinking clearly.  In fact, I was struggling just to take it all in.  “What’s a golem?”

“It’s a formless, featureless creature that takes the shape its creator specifies and performs whatever duties his creator demands of him.”

My mind was racing almost as fast as my heart.  I’d never heard of a golem, but Tegan had obviously dealt with them before.  “How do you know that?  How did you know that would kill him?”

“A golem isn’t hard to kill.  They have many of the same weaknesses humans do.  A gun would’ve worked just as well, but I just used what he had.”

“Thank you.  You- you saved my life.”

More winded than before, Tegan had to pause before answering. “Not- uh.  Not a problem.”  I could see sweat running down the sides of his face.

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t- don’t think so.  Can we go inside?’

He stumbled up the steps and onto the porch.  I got him inside as quickly as I could, the fist of alarm squeezing my chest in a vice grip.

Tegan went straight to the couch and tried to sit down, but he fell, crumpling into a heap on the floor. 

Chapter Twenty

“Tegan!”  I rushed to his side where he lay.  “What is it?”

He licked his lips and shook his head then held up his right hand toward me.  “Splinter,” he breathed, the “s” making a hissing sound around his teeth. 

I looked at his hand and saw a fairly large splinter in his palm.  It was deeply imbedded. I noticed the skin around it was already angry red and bubbled with blisters.  I wondered if he was having some sort of allergic reaction. “Let me get a needle.”

He shook his head, saying, “Just dig.”  Again I heard the whistle of the “s”.  It was then that I noticed his teeth, his canines specifically.  I could see the elongated, pearly white, razor sharp tips peeking out from beneath his upper lip. 

“What is- are you a- a—“  I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“Cat, please.  I can’t…hold…on.  Please,” he said, struggling over each word.

I lifted trembling fingers to pinch at the wood sliver in his palm.  I could barely feel the tip of the splinter.  I used my short nails like pinchers, trying to get hold of it.  The more I dug and pinched, the further the sliver crawled back into his flesh.  “I can’t—“

“Have to.” 

I flexed Tegan’s hand, forcing his palm toward me as far as it would go.  I hesitated for a second then lifted his palm to my mouth, using my teeth to grab the splinter and pull it out. 

“It’s out, it’s out,” I told Tegan, but he was barely conscious.  The skin on his face and neck had taken on a darker, scaly look and his eyes looked a darker color through his slitted lids.

“I…need…blood,” he whispered.  His expression held a mixture of pain and what looked like disgust.

“What?”  I scooted away from him, a sharp pang of fear lancing through me.

“Look…at…me.”  Heavy breathing.  “Don’t…be…afraid.  Won’t…hurt…you.”  He huffed and strained to speak.  When I didn’t move a muscle, Tegan reached for my hand and tugged.  Despite his weakened condition, his strength was still superhuman.  The little tug unseated me and nearly landed me on his chest.  I braced my hands against his belly, trying to push away.  “Look at me, Cat,” he said again. 

I was too close to really avoid looking at him so I did as he asked.  Beneath his lashes I could see that his blue eyes had turned a dark, dark red.  In the low light, they appeared to glow, as if they were backlit from somewhere deep within.  As I looked into them, the fear I’d felt melted away and was replaced by a pleasant whir inside my head, like I’d had too much to drink.

“Please, Cat.  Help,” he said again, his eyes pulling me in. 

Intuitively, I knew what he wanted, what he needed.  And, suddenly, I was not the least bit fearful of giving it to him.  I leaned forward on his chest, pulling my hair to one side and lowering my upper body until my throat was near his mouth.  His muscles tightened and he made a throaty sound of pleasure right before I felt the sting of his teeth breaking my skin.  And then there was nothing but a soft, peaceful pleasure.

At first, I was adrift on a warm cloud.  I felt weightless and carefree.  It was like all the best parts of childhood rolled into one overwhelming feeling of wellbeing.  I basked in the bliss of it.