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Authors: Jeff Gelb

BOOK: Dark Passions
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“One day, when Yolanda, Esme, and I were at the small church-run school in town, one of the paying men saw my two youngest sisters in the back room, playing on our straw mattress. Ana was three, and Yesenia almost five. He raped them both, then told our mother he'd be back for more. He swore he would shoot her if she told anyone. Though she was terrified, she told Yolanda, who was twelve at this time. Yolanda told our drunken father, who did nothing. The next day, when we returned from school, Ana and Yesenia were gone. We found Mother shot, dead. Father made us sleep in the same bed where this horror took place. We huddled together every night quaking in fear the man would return and take us, do to us what he had to Ana and Yesenia. It was during this time we found our fear disappeared when we pleasured each other. It was a nightmare we survived only by relying on each other. Eventually, Father brought us to the United States.” Carmen waited. How the man responded told her whether it was safe to go on. Those who found the story sexually exciting made her sick, and she made them leave.
Michael looked horrified and angry at the same time. “Did they ever catch the monster that did this? Were your sisters ever found?”
Carmen shook her head. The sadness of it caught her voice a moment. “No. But there was good that came out of it. Our father got sober and learned to protect us. He found the strength to move us away. He died four years ago. Now the fear stalks us. The monster is still out there. Maybe it's silly to be afraid after so many years, in a different country ...”
Michael wrapped his arms around her. “Silly? No. Let
me
protect you.”
Carmen's mind went blank. She was surprised—a man offering to protect her when he heard her story? The others usually told her she was silly to be afraid.
It happened in a foreign country. You're safe now. Let's go to bed.
Michael was different. She had no idea how to react. Her heart opened to him. In a little voice, she said, “Please.”
He picked her up off the chair and took her to the bedroom. He just held her, still clothed, rocking her. How she wished her father had chosen to do this with his daughters to help them heal instead of the choices he made that scarred them still. Carmen felt tears brim, then recede. The Almanza sisters didn't cry. Not anymore.
Carmen turned her face to Michael's and began their choreographed dance with a kiss. She sucked his cock to near coming, made him sup at the font of her womb and suckle her nipples and clit until she climaxed, driving him into the dark void that provided the connection with her sisters. Carmen smiled when she closed her eyes and saw the silver-haired man in bed with the two women. He had a wonderful body, big, deeply tanned, and ripped. Yolanda seemed well-pleased by him as Esme was about to have him.
Michael commanded her, moving her roughly, his cock ready to jam inside her. “I want you on your hands and knees, Carmen. I want to hold your tits while I fuck you from behind.” He bent over her ass, then took a nipple between his fingers and thrust into her.
Carmen loved the thickness of his cock filling her, the thrall that came over her as he touched her just right. Moments passed as he got his rhythm, then the effect of her liqueur kicked in. His hands went from her breasts to her shoulders to get the best leverage as he began banging her hard. His head went onto her back at the nape of her neck as the darkness took him over.
As Michael fucked Carmen, the scene that played through her into his mind was exquisite. Yolanda was on her knees, bent over Esme, licking her clit, while Esme, propped up on pillows, was sucking on Holden's prick, a long finger up his anus. Esme quit on him just as he was about to come. She climaxed heartily. Rock hard, Holden pulled Yoli onto the bed beside him and flipped her onto her stomach, maneuvered her into the same position Carmen was in. He pressed himself into Yoli, his hands on her hips as Esme slid under Yoli to suckle her nipples and finger her clit.
Time hovered still as the five of them took each other to sexual exhaustion some twelve miles apart, each seeing the others in the warm haze of their thaumaturgy.
Carmen was awake as Michael slept in the early morning hours before sunrise. The twinge of sadness from the evening before returned. Michael had become much like the others—sleeping seldom if at all, wanting the union two and three times a night, more on the weekends. She was deeply fond of him. She didn't want him to end up a zombie, constantly hungry and desperate for her. Perhaps, because he was different, he'd find a balance, stay with her awhile, with them, and not selfdestruct. But the only way that would happen was if she helped. With no idea how to do that, she had to find faith in Michael and a part of herself that magic had not usurped.
 
 
Jim looked much better when Ben saw him sitting at the bar. He was drinking Pellegrino and had the color in his cheeks, not his eyes.
“I almost didn't recognize you! Here's the Jim I remember.” They shook hands.
“Feeling much better. Seeing a shrink. Found a support group for dumpees. I'm seeing my son and daughter, trying to mend fences. I even started going on regular dates with women my sister sets me up with. Low expectations all around. She tells them I'm ‘Rebound Guy'!” He laughed. “Means I'm attractive to women with fear of commitment or rescuers, but I'm learning boundaries.”
Ben patted Jim on the back. “You've got the jargon down pat, buddy. I have to say, I didn't think you'd be this far along in five months. I think you're ready.”
“Ready? Ready for what? I'm handling all I can handle!” Jim smoothed his cocktail napkin. His hands still shook a little.
Ben pulled his briefcase up onto the table. He patted it as if it contained the Holy Grail. “Inside this case ... is your Carmen Almanza.”
Jim froze, blinking furiously. “What?” He stared at the black briefcase. “You found her?” He squeaked out a quick, hysterical giggle. “No. No, Benny, I can't. Dr. Posner ...”
“Hey, I don't know where she is, I'm glad to say.” He flicked open the clasps. “But I've got over five hundred pages of notes on her.” He explained the blogs, bulletin boards, newsgroups, the professional information gained from his police database.
Jim touched the case tentatively. He spoke in a monotone. “So I am not her first ... the only one she had an effect on. It's the same with every guy she fucks. And not just her. Her sisters too.”
Jim motioned for Ben to open the case. He took the bulk of the notes and set them down on the table. “I don't know if I want to read it, but I want to have it. I'm dumbfounded. I never thought you'd do anything.”
Ben grabbed Jim's wrist. “There's more, buddy. Can you take some more crazy shit about these sisters?”
“This isn't crazy enough?” Jim seemed to test a hidden gauge inside a moment, then nodded. “Go on.”
“Okay. Let me know when you want me to shut up. It gets pretty weird.” Ben took a deep breath and sighed. “I kept coming up with huge discrepancies in time. For instance, I found Internet stuff on her employment going back to 1993, when she was a staff researcher at the Frick in Boston. If she's twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven now, that would have made her thirteen years old at the time. Not likely, eh?”
Jim shook his head. “It's getting weird.”
“Yeah. So I decided a month ago I needed a vacation in Guatemala. I went to Antigua, which is a well-preserved colonial city with libraries filled with historical stuff. I met a journalist in a bar who would make a rag like the
Enquirer
proud. With a few bottles of whiskey and an interesting story to investigate, Jorge Domingo was ready to steal whatever information he couldn't get legally.
“In less than a day, he got us into an archive where they house newspapers back over two hundred years! They have computers and shit, but I wanted to go back. Way back. Possibly before they had microfiche. Jorge brought in some of his gofers, and we went through every newspaper that might have the story you told me Carmen told. About her sisters and mother.
“It took five days and a lot of whiskey, but in a little local paper we found articles about the murders.”
“Murders. I thought the sisters were kidnapped and only the mother was killed.”
“Look, I had to consider that if the timelines were off, Carmen might have lied to you about more than when this story happened. Turns out it's
Twilight Zone
stuff.”
Ben moved the stack of information in its binder in front of him and flipped it open to the back. He found copies of the articles and their translations separated by a red acetate sheet. He poked at them with his beefy finger. “You said she was afraid to sleep in the dark ... something about the guy who killed her mother still out there, maybe looking for her and her sisters. Well, if the perp is still alive, he's too old to hurt anyone.”
Jim glanced over to the first translation, then moved the binder so he could read it.
Seguila is a quiet town where the United Fruit Company has improved the rustic living conditions of the poor. Hardworking people with families, like the Almanzas, wouldn't expect trouble, especially from the company that had helped better their conditions. But yesterday, it was learned that their peaceful lives had been shattered by a week-long brutal rampage by itinerant UFC laborers who broke into homes in their somewhat remote area.
The four men, who had been rumored to have dropped in on innocent families for meals and to torment them, found the Almanzas particularly easy to overtake. Hector Almanza and his wife, Manuela, were sought out by locals as gentle healers. Hector is still considered a respected brujo. Their five beautiful daughters were bright, the eldest three in the church school.
Over a three-day period, with Hector tied to a chair, denied food or water and forced to watch, the four men repeatedly raped the girls and their mother. The females were made to cook and bathe the men, cater to their every need, and were whipped and beaten. By the end of their siege, little Ana, age three, and Yesenia, age five, were dead. Then the men, believing their fortune in not being detected would soon end, threatened the remainder of the family with the loss of their lives should they tell of their ordeal. As they went to leave, Manuela Almanza grabbed a knife from one of the laborers. When she attempted to cut him, the knife was fatally turned on her.
The ravaged family was discovered by a nun who had grown concerned when the girls had missed school for two days. “It wasn't like them at all,” she told this reporter.
Jim put his hand to his chest as if struck. “Oh, man. This is worse than she said.”
Ben patted him on the back. “Take a look at the date on the article.”
Jim flipped back to the copy of the original article. August 12, 1921. “Nineteen twenty-one? Hell, this can't be about her, then. Eighty-five years ago? No way. Carmen is twenty-seven now. Her sisters, one a couple of years older, the other a few years younger. No. Not possible, Benny.” Jim stared at his friend.
Ben shrugged. “I'm not a guy who believes supernatural bullshit, Jimbo. I go with the evidence, always. But I start with my hunches. And my hunches tell me there's a connection with the father being some kind of witch, and some bad magic here. I don't want to believe you got yourself hooked on having sex with an eighty-sixyear-old woman any more than you do. But think about those hallucinations, seeing the other women ... her sisters? They find some guy just out of a relationship, dumped, lonely. A beautiful, sexy woman comes along and wants
him.
Then they do something to him, slip him a potion, some drug: do a spell. Before he knows it, he's jonesing for it.”
Jim closed the notebook and shivered. “Whatever this was, it's over. Thanks, Benny. This'll help.” He pushed the binder aside. “Just be glad you're not their type. And you know their scam. You know, I worry about guys out there right now ... guys heading where I was. You think there's a way to stop them?”
“I've got some ideas. When I get some time between cases, I'll see about locating them. They're not hiding, changing their names. Maybe they're lazy.” Ben's mind whirred with “next steps.” “But hey, you're moving on!” He grinned. “That's what counts.”

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