Chapter Five
Jack arose the following evening and oozed his way to Sera’s home. It was time he visited her there. Like cold fog rising above a warm river, he entered her home bypassing the security systems. Stopping in the entry way momentarily, he tipped his head over his shoulder. As he frowned, he inhaled only remnant scents of Sarah. Nothing living and breathing. She had gone. He could smell it, feel it in the silence of the house. He howled. Balling his hands into fists, he raged through her place ripping books off shelves, dishes out of cupboards, kicking up rugs, smashing his way through her home, reveling in the splintering sounds he made.Throwing her clothes from drawers, he stopped suddenly as he stared ahead at an antique pie cupboard directly in front of him. He surveyed the area. Her home office. Smirking, he threw open the doors revealing five racks replete with herbs, minerals, flower essences, rare and dried pieces of organic materials; the skin of an African frog, the powdered tip of a rhinoceros horn, cayenne pepper, a bowl of cubed sugar cane, fresh honey. He leered at them. Using one hand, he pulled them off the shelves and smashed them on the floor. When all were useless debris, his rage spent, he spun around and headed out the door absently leaving it open.
Once Jack had entered the Sera’s home, the dark companion shadowed Jack, curious, afraid. Hugging every dark corner, he kept out of Jack’s perception. Caliban knew Jack’s state was dangerous, especially since he never turned around to check out his surroundings nor was he aware of being followed. Sneaking behind him, Caliban breathed in the smell of Sera’s house. The act settled him. Checking that Jack was preoccupied in her study, Caliban pressed his nose to her things, settling on what must have been a favored throw blanket, all cashmere soft and filled with her clean, flowery smell. He tried to smile but his lips were not used to the movement. He started when he heard the window smash. Caliban’s ears perked up. Jack was leaving. Caliban, on silent feet, followed.
Sweeping into the night, Jack headed straight toward Macadam Avenue until he could cross over to Willamette Park unseen. Stretches of grass separated the restaurants and condos nearer the road from the Willamette River flowing towards the Columbia. It was high tide. Someone would be settling in for a night’s sleep in the park. Jack hunted softly.
A short man in a greasy raincoat, mismatched boots and raggedy gloves clutched himself tightly to a Safeway shopping cart filled with blankets, bottles, and a tarp. Jack shrank into the cover of night hunting for younger, vital prey. The river lapped against the shore. The rain ceased earlier in the day leaving the ground covered in damp sweat. The air felt heavy with moisture yet to come.
Chilled and wet, she sat near the shore, communing cross-legged being one with the water. Young, restless. Her sixteen-year-old legs covered in muddy jeans. A halter top peeked out of a loose sweatshirt, she swayed to music only she heard. Nearing midnight, the moon hid behind soup gray clouds. Silently, he drew up behind her, could smell the staleness of her clothing, her unwashed hair falling in greasy strings to her shoulders. She turned instinctively seeing yellow eyes glowing in the dark. Too late, she screamed, the sound muffled by a hand over her mouth. He ripped into her neck with hungry teeth drinking the vigorous, young adrenaline pumping through her veins. He couldn’t let go, locked in a singular sensation that sent life splashing through his dry veins. He sucked all of her vitality, the warmth of it filling him. Holding his other arm around her waist, he reveled in the struggle, the energy transferring from her to him. As suddenly as it began, the energy waned. He pulled away from her. The girl dropped gasping for air, her eyes wide and terrified. Jack stared down at her in the mud dispassionately watching as she crawled away from him and toward a bluff of land. He could hear her soft sobs between gasps for air. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the scalpel, the silver blade catching the moonlight through a break in the clouds. Gliding closer to her, he grabbed her hair. She gurgled as he cut her throat. Quick. Merciless. She sputtered then lay still.
Precisely with the scalpel, he cut from her clavicle all the way through past her heart. As he worked, Caliban slid from the cover of night fascinated with the kill. He leered at the flesh, biting a leg of the fallen body trying to roll in it like a labrador rolling on rotted duck flesh. Its eyes in ecstasy, he dug his face into the meat, ripping off a chunk and shaking his head from side to side as he chewed and swallowed. Jack shoved at Caliban. With bloodied hands, he reached inside her chest and yanked out her heart. Gliding to the river, he washed his prize clean, wrapped it in his coat and backed up from the shoreline.
Turning to Caliban, his eyes heavily lidded, he glared. Caliban halted. Silently he dropped the meat and slid into the water cleaning himself. Quietly, dripping, he followed Jack into the night.
Once they were away from the river, Jack controlled himself enough to speak. “Sera’s gone.” He pointed at Caliban. “Find her. That’s all you Bargshest dogs are good for.” Caliban shivered. “Fail me and you’ll be punished for quite a long time.” Jack fingered his jacket glaring at his pet. “I want to give her my heart.” Jack smiled, a gesture that frightened Caliban.
Caliban closed his eyes recalling her scent capturing her clean smell mingled with a sniff of flowers. Moments later, he jumped into the air like a dark wind and headed east snuffling as he went. Jack followed, wordless, enraged clutching at the package under his arm and fingering the scalpel in his pocket.
TO BE CONTINUED