Kiss Me, Curse Me

The second time was different as Ahanu drank the liquid again and drifted back into the next world. There was more control, having gained experience from the first time. Ahanu walked through the forest, the trunks melded with the green, everything moved in that same liquid form as before. He was grounded this time and not alone. A figure emerged before him, the red man with white hair, naked and thin. He reached his hand out to Ahanu and forced him to follow the black path ahead. Soon the forest was gone, and they stood before the cave.

The cave mouth was even darker than before, like it was made of black water. The red man stood in front and called the wolf. A howl rang out so loud Ahanu covered his ears with no effect.

“I’m not going back into the cave,” said Ahanu to the red man.

“You don’t have to, my son. It’s with you now.”

“What is?”

“The wolf—he’s here. You called him.”

“I didn’t,” said Ahanu.

“Yes, you did. You’re here, aren’t you? You came of your own free will to deliver me that package. You’re my son. You had to.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re evil.”

Turning to run, Ahanu ran back the way they had traveled, back down the black path, but it led to no forest. Instead it led to D Street, to an empty road, no cars, no people and he knew where to go, he went in, through the bar with no liquor, up the stairs to the door. He stood before the door and went in, but there was no one inside. Betty’s room was empty.

“Coreeeeeeen,” he cried, coming to wake still on that awful table in his father’s tomb, the cuffs still in place, he fought with them, he kicked, he cried out. “Let me go. Let me go.”

“You’re not done,” said Kanti, Ahanu’s father. “You need to meet the wolf.”

“I don’t want to meet him.”

“But you must, in order to carry out his bidding. You’ve already brought Coreen to him. She’s almost there now. He is very happy.”

“I love her. I didn’t know. I mean her no harm.” Ahanu fought the cuffs now.

“Just like you pretended not to with your sister?”

Ahanu froze. “What do mean? What are you saying?”

“You saw that snake earlier in the day. You knew it was there.”

“I didn’t” Ahanu closed his eyes, and Kanti leaned his face very close, close enough to exchange breath.

“You did. Think Ahanu. Think. You know it to be the truth.” Ahanu shook his head back and forth in denial trying to shoo away the images—her screams.



The sun was still low in the sky, the morning air still crisp, the birds carried on with their morning chirps as they did every day. Ahanu sat outside their small rickety cabin, ignoring his mother’s orders to go down to the river to help with the salmon run.

“I know. I know,” he muttered tossing a pebble across the way into the taller grass. The full-bodied rattle came from the spot he had just disturbed. Ahanu focused in, not hearing the rest of the chores his mother explained. “Yes,” he said to calm her, “I’ll do them.”

Her tone changed to that of satisfaction, and she heralded him a friendly goodbye from inside.

Slowly approaching the spot in the grass and getting just close enough to see the light, grayish-green scales, Ahanu resisted the temptation to poke the creature—the rattlesnake. Common sense persuaded him to back up, making his way into the forest.



“See the rattlesnake . . . how he sleeps in the morning,” said Kanti.

“No.” Ahanu wept. “I didn’t kill her. I didn’t kill my sister.”



***



The reservation had its own rules. Sherriff Doby hadn’t been to the small village in years. The inhabitants came into town years ago to sign paperwork for permissions for the dam to be built on their lands, a payment to be paid out upon completion and a percentage of profits from the electricity thereafter. The rest of the time they’d be seen out and around mostly by the river. It was their life, their blood. A regular few were sent into town for supplies and such.

The heat hung in the air as Doby cut through it, parking his car. He chose the spot in front of the Indian’s main store. The buildings were much older, similar to D Street, weathered, dull, grey paint—the complete opposite of the new homes and buildings set up to support the economy of the dam. They were all new, an unspoiled white. The odd native sat here and there along the weathered strip, a few gathered beside a young teen strumming on his guitar on an empty store porch. It was calm and quiet, and all eyes were on the outsiders.

Doby nodded to Patty toward the deep melody. They slummed on over.

“Ahanu. You know where he is?” asked Doby, taking his stance just close enough to the group not to be intimidating.

The woody chords stopped. The guitarist lifted his straw hat, revealing dark-brown eyes and a buzz cut. He was a little on the pudgy side with a white t-shirt and dirtied tan pants. “He’s not here.”

“Where can we find him?”

“You won’t.”

“And why is that?” Doby leaned a shoulder forward, flashing his gold badge, the only noteworthy item on his lackluster, tan uniform.

“He’s never around here.” The teen put his hat back on and continued with a smooth track. This time it was a more lonesome, western beat.

“I’m not done here,” said Doby. “He must live around, in a cabin perhaps?”

The teen didn’t stop his play, another just pointed to a trail leading between the buildings and behind them, “That way . . . into the forest.”

The trail was long, half hour before they hit any sort of clearing. There were a few greyed cabins. They knocked on doors with no response.

“Someone has to be in,” said Patty.

They continued down the trail another twenty minutes, through thicker pines. It was cooler. It was a break.

“Water?” Patty passed his canteen to Doby, who took a drink. “This phantom of a kid, he better be somewhere.” As Patty said the words, they hit another clearing and a lone cabin. A woman was out front, humming while sweeping. She looked up surprised by the visitors.

Doby smiled at her; he couldn’t help it. She had a friendliness about her. He could feel it a mile away. She smiled back. She was stunning, her features, though she was older—in her youth she probably turned many a head. She wore just a simple, light-green, short-sleeved dress with a white apron around her waist.

“Hi there,” said Doby. “I’m the sheriff, and this is Patty, my deputy.” Patty stood smiling at the announcement.

“What is this about?” Her face turned from a warm welcome to one of concern. “Is it about my son?”

They paused a few feet away from the worn porch steps. “If his name is Ahanu, then yes.” Doby tried to give her an empathetic look.

“Come inside, I’m Dyani.” she said. “You must be hungry. I have some warm fry bread.” She brought them in; they passed through the living room where an old, white-haired woman dosed. Patty couldn’t help but look at all the décor—a a massive headdress hung from the wall with the most beautiful white feathers. There were a few black-and-white photos, a large group by the river, salmon held high, another family portrait with Ahanu’s mother in the center, a few men, some young, some old, a young girl, and the white-haired woman.

The kitchen was small, but only because the table in it was so big. It looked new, like it had just been ruggedly carved. A little statue of a black bear sat on the windowsill. The place was plain, but it felt like nature with all the dried plant hangings spread about, some displayed on the wood paneled walls, others hanging from the ceiling in a large array of color. Doby ducked to get in and took a seat with Patty at the dining table.

“My husband, he’ll be home soon. He’s out.”

“That’s all right,” reassured Doby. “Did you carve that bear?”

“My husband did. He likes to carve animals. Would you like some tea or coffee?”

“Tea please,” said Patty. “Thank you.”

She poured them some hot, green liquid, smelling like mint. It was cool and hot at the same time going down—pleasant.

“My son has not been home in days,” she said as she continued her movements in the kitchen. It’s like she was busy but wasn’t doing anything at all.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” said Doby.

“I don’t like to sit,” she said, wiping the counter. She at least stopped to face them, leaning back against the short counter. The dried herbs only gave her a partial view of Doby and Patty, who tried to duck a little to see her face. She’d never had white folk in her home before. Doby’s long, white hair reminded her of her mother’s. She smiled a bit.

“There’s been a murder,” said Doby, setting the handmade mug on the table.

“What? Ahanu?” Her face paled.

“No, no. Not him. He’s missing. Not dead. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Doby put his hand up. “Please, come sit.”

She shook her head not budging, “Who then?”

“My daughter,” said Patty.

She winced putting her hand over her heart, “I’m so sorry, you must be—”

Patty sighed. “Your son . . . we’ve been told he was seeing her.”

“Ahanu? No, he had no interest in that sort of thing. I’d know.”

Doby glanced at Patty, then spoke, “We’re not sure that it’s true either. Can you tell us anything, something? Has he been doing anything out of the ordinary?”

“He’s always to himself. He’s off in the woods all the time ever since—” She stopped. “I don’t know what to say. You think he’s involved?”

“I’m not saying that. I have a report in that he was last seen with her. I have to check into it. I need to speak with him,” said Doby.

“He’s not been home. I don’t know. I’m worried. Usually he’s gone a shorter while. He comes back to eat, helps me a little with this and that. He’s not like my other son—my oldest son. Ahanu is of the forest. He’s always been this way. He does get hungry though.”

“How many days now?”

“Three days. He’ll go the odd time for two at the most.”

“Where in the forest?”

She rubbed her forehead feeling the tension now of the interrogation. “Excuse me a minute,” she said. “I must go check on my mother. I’ll be right back.” She left the kitchen with a glass of mint tea.

Patty whispered, “What now?”

“She knows something. She’s covering.” Doby tapped his finger on the table.

“How do you know that?”

“She’s hiding behind her shrubs, why would she do that? What is she hiding?”

“It’s her son.”

Dyani cleared her voice and took a seat right next to Doby, straightening out her dress neatly after scooting the chair in. “What is it you think I am hiding?”

Doby scooted his chair sideways to face her. Boy, she’s gorgeous. He looked right at her, into her big, brown, soulful eyes. There was pain in those eyes. He played it cool. “You tell me.”

She sat in silence, “He’s missing—my boy.” She looked over at Patty, “I know what it is that you feel. I’ve seen the mask of death. His smile taunts. It never leaves. I don’t want to lose another.” She swallowed holding back the flood and reached her hand out to Patty, “I am sorry for you and your little girl.”

Patty winced and closed his eyes.



***



“Drink. He’s close now. He’s almost here.” Kanti prepared to shove the liquid down his son’s throat, expecting resistance, but got none.

The liquid tasted different this time, bitterer, pungent. Ahanu gulped it down; noticing his tongue numb and his throat burn. It was stronger than the previous potions, the sleep coming on quicker this time.

A howl rang out in the dark, followed by a green orb of light; it flitted in the dark to and fro, fading in and out. Ahanu reached for it, bringing it to his palm. It was hot, it burned a mark on his flesh. He dropped it and watched it fall to the ground only to disappear into the black fluid in which he stood. Everything was black now, and the howl grew louder, emanating from all directions. It was the eyes he saw first, a green glow coming from the distance, changing to yellow and back to green, then the black snout, followed by hooked canine fangs. The wolf came walking on the black liquid, a ripple of water spreading out from each step. His fur was bright silver, gleaming against the black backdrop. He came till he stood at the foot of Ahanu.

The pure evil—Ahanu could sense it. He took a step back, hesitating. “Pet him, my son,” the voice whispered.

“No.” Ahanu took another step back. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t him. He knew he had good inside. He had his mother in him too. She was good, a good woman from the earth.

“You must pet him. He is our master.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want this. I didn’t choose this.”

“You don’t choose this. It chose you. It just is.”

“No.”

The wolf looked up at Ahanu now, almost as if it had a smile on those jaws.

“It’ll be easier if you do this now. You don’t want to be forced, do you?” His father’s voice took sinister connotation.

“He is not my master, as you are not my father. My father is Lonatu. He is a hunter. He is of the land. He is good,” said Ahanu. “I can’t do this. I won’t do this.” He turned his back to the sea of black behind him.

The wolf howled; it was like a knife to Ahanu’s ears.

“It’s too late nowww,” the voice screamed.

The wolf pounced. It bit hard at the back of Ahanu’s neck. It pushed him down into the water. Ahanu tried to fight, but he couldn’t. It was too strong for him. He felt himself sinking into the black. He couldn’t see, though he blinked and blinked and fought with all of his might, choking for breath. He inhaled, and as he did, the green orb entered his mouth—it was the wolf.





“I’m sorry that I can’t assist you further. Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? I have a good selection of roots, some sweetened carrots.”

Doby stood up from the table, Patty followed his lead. He and Patty had stayed longer than expected, as they had ended up discussing many other things than what the original visit had called for.

“No, Dyani, but thank you. The bread was great and that honey . . . It’s getting late; we must get going. We’ll be back this way in the morning to search for your son.”

She showed them to the door and stopped in shock at what she saw. “It looks like you won’t need to.”

Ahanu sat on the porch on their old rocking chair. He smiled at his mother. She ran to greet him. “Oh, you’re home. Where have you been?” It was as if no one else was there but her and her son. The other two men were forgotten in her joy at seeing Ahanu alive and well. She ran her hand down his ponytail as she’d done a thousand times. He raised a brow, and then she remembered her company. She stood by Ahanu’s side and faced the officers of the law, ready for them to be gone. She stood aside so they could make their way off the porch. Ahanu kept his smile, a mix of mischief and knowing. “He needs to come with us,” said Doby.

“No.” Dyani stood in between them with her hands up, the red sunset shooting its rays upon the deck. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“We’re not saying that he has,” said Doby. “But we have to question him.”

Patty was unable to hide the anger in his expression. He couldn’t help it. All of sudden, here was this mysterious kid before him—the one who may know something about his daughter. Patty kept his mouth shut and his fists clenched. It was all he could do to keep his calm. Doby noticed his partner’s tension and put an arm out on Patty’s shoulder.

Ahanu stood tall and strong, his shoulders back, his manner smooth. He whispered something in his mother’s ear, and her disposition changed immediately. As if lulled by his soft words, she slowly sat on the rocking chair, gazing out at the darkening trees.

Watching him, Doby swore he saw a color change in the boy’s eyes. He looked over at the sun that was just about to dip below the tree line and glanced back at Ahanu, who behaved as if he could see right through them. Doby dropped his eyes, feeling out of sorts somehow, “You need to come with us.”

“Sure,” the boy said.

They trekked back through the forest, through the sleepy old Indian village, and back through the night to the sheriff’s station. The three of them never uttered a word among them.

The secretary was long gone. She had closed up shop for the night. Doby shuffled through his pockets for the key, stopping only when Ahanu handed them to him. “You dropped them,” he said, giving the sheriff half a smirk.

Doby saw the same flash of color again from the boy’s pupils. Was it green? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he was damn tired. Patty wasn’t looking any better after the long day. The three of them entered the station and Doby turned the light on to the interrogation room. “I’m not holding you on anything yet,” he said. “Take a seat.”

The room was small with no windows, a metal table, and one chair in the center, the walls whiter than the whites of any eye.

Ahanu did as he was asked and sat with his hands flat against the warm metal.

“We know you were seeing Coreen.” The sheriff dragged a grey chair from the lobby and placed it directly in front of the boy. Patty leaned against the wall, perspiring under the heat of the unaired room and his anger.

“Coreen?” Ahanu asked. “Coreen who?”

Patty exhaled, realizing that that was all he wanted to hear.

“Coreen Healy—you don’t know her?”

“No.” Ahanu leaned back on the chair, looking bored.

“We have a witness saying that you do.”

“Who?”

“Ed Turner.”

“Don’t know him.” Ahanu’s tone didn’t change. He didn’t move. It was like he wasn’t even breathing.

“I don’t believe you,” said Doby. “I’m keeping you here for the night if you don’t cough up something.”

They waited for him to speak, but Ahanu didn’t.

“That’s it. You’ve bought yourself a barred bed, son.”

“Sure.” That’s all Ahanu said as he was locked up into the stifling cell with just a toilet and a simple bed frame barely holding a mattress. Doby brought him a glass of water. “You think about this. You tell us what you know in the morning. I can hold you here as long as I like.” Ahanu gave the sheriff a wink.

Doby stopped, “What the hell was that? You think this is some kind of game? What game are you playing here? This girl is dead, murdered, and you’re winking at me? I don’t think so.”

“You never said she was dead,” said Ahanu, with no inflection.

“You watch it there.” Doby shook his head and walked off.

“We need this Ed guy back here, and I need some more Indians. I need a lineup,” said Doby to Patty, who was lying flat out on the brown leather couch in the corner of the office.

“I’m sleeping here tonight,” said Patty.

“You do that. I’m going for Ed. I know where he hangs out. That place on D where the sun don’t shine.”

“Oh, it shines,” said Patty.

“What? Is that where you were last night? You hound.” Doby smirked.

Patty chuckled.



***



The needle was inserted, the blood drawn back, and the fluid injected. Doc pulled the needle out and taped gauze over the hole, “Hold this, would you?”

Betty sat and put pressure on Coreen’s arm, “She’s so small.”

“She needs a dose of this every day for a week. Did you see what I did? You have to be careful with this medication. Can’t believe we have it.”

“Yeah. I got it. Inject the same amount of air into the bottle before I draw it up. I get it,” repeated Betty. “And release the tourniquet before I inject.”

“You could be a nurse, you know.”

“Pfffff. And leave this lovely place? I don’t think so,” said Betty. “Too much consumption out there anyway.”

“Not much here. More in the city,” said Doc, closing up his bag and wiping off the sweat on his forehead. “I’m going. I’ll be back in a few days. I have to tend to the others. I have another down.”

“How many is that now?” Betty released her grip and stood. She was dressed in a black-and-white corset dress decked in shiny, black beads on the corset line. Her waist was even thinner than normal. She could feel the pressure on her lungs but didn’t care because she looked good in her new dress shipped all the way from Paris. It was a big night ahead. She caught the old fellow eyeing her as she admired herself in the mirror.

He focused back on Coreen, “Two down and a dead teen. Saw the body in the dam morgue.”

“They have a morgue?”

“Oh yes, very dangerous work. They wanted me to take a look.”

“Why?”

“I know things.” He winked at her.

“I’ll say, Doc.” She turned to face him.

“There’s something going on. I don’t know what. The woman I saw yesterday, she’s very ill. She’s in a coma too.”

“Like our girl here. And the teen?”

“He fell, internal bleeding. I won’t say any more than that.”

“Boy, remind me not to go out. Maybe you should stay here. I have a very good show ahead.” Betty gave him an inviting look with pouty, red lips.

“No. I have to see this woman. It’s not good.”

“No need to get so serious. I know, Doc.”

“Watch this girl. I want to know if she stirs at all—any movement is a good sign, except that shaking. Inject her with that other syringe there on the table okay. This medication should do something within a few days here. I really had to talk them into giving it to me.”

Betty eyed the syringe hoping that is was something she didn’t have to do. The shaking had disturbed her, having never seen anything like it. She looked back at Doc who was watching her worry. “Oh . . . that’s why you looked at the dam’s body—trade?”

“Yes. I’m due back there again. Don’t fret. You’ll be fine. I showed you everything you need to know. If you’re desperate, I have a new apprentice staying out back of my house,” said Doc, packing up.

“You’ve never mentioned this before.” Betty wanted to know everything as usual.

“I shouldn’t have to. He’s not ready for anything too serious, but he knows the score here. He can handle.”

“You told him. Oh . . . you shouldn’t tell anyone. It’s already bad enough that Ed knows. He’s a firecracker just waiting to pop all over town. You have no clue what I’ve had to do here.”

“You can trust this one. He’s good. He’s new but willing. Not many can stomach what I do on a daily basis.”

“If you say so. I think I’ll manage. I’ll be able to do it.” She flinched—a micro expression of worry, glancing back at the syringe and the very long needle. “Okay. Goodnight.”

Betty showed the old man out the back as there was barely room to breathe up front and took her beloved spot behind the worn bar with the two slinky, brunette bartender sisters taking hot orders. The booze ran fast like the river, and the men slew their octopi hands all over.

“There she is!” Ed hollered from the crowd and shoved his way to the brass bar edge. He was dressed head to toe in black—a new suit—giving Betty a sly nod.

She shook her head. “I can’t now.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, Ed.” She pointed a ruby-red nail at him then poured some whiskey shots for the three fresh lads sitting in front of her. They tipped very well, so she kept them topped up. She eyed the darker-haired one in the center. His southern drawl was thick, his looks brawn, causing her to feel a bit lightheaded—a live roman statue.

Ed noticed her fancy and shoved in between the three men, “You have to.” He said to her moving a finger at her to come hither.

“No, Ed, I don’t. You get back to your table. Raska will serve you tonight.”

“I don’t want that Russian seaberry.”

“Then I have plenty more.” Betty motioned for him to move as her three fresh ones looked quite miffed by now and she didn’t want a fight before the show.

“I’m thinking blonde tonight . . . and young . . .”

“Hey now. You can get the hell out of here.” Betty slammed her hand down on the bar and reached under for her ivory-stock rifle.

“No need for that.” Ed retreated with his hands up, “I’m dandy. It’s cool. Send someone over. Your pick.” He headed back to his table, had it all to himself with no one to bother.

“Boys, forgive my regular. He’s a tad overdone,” said Betty.

“I’ll say,” said the southerner.

“What’s your name?” Betty smiled at him. She couldn’t help herself. It had been a long time since she’d tasted a peach so succulent.

“Roy.” He gave her a cool, seductive look.

“Oh, Roy. . .” She tittered, turning away. A pursed breath in and she returned to him. “What you in for tonight?”

“A little of this, a little of that.” The stranger kept it smooth.

It really was killing her inside. She wanted to grab him and take him right up those hell- trodden steps. She swallowed hard instead. “You let me know, Roy.”

“Will do,” he said, finally dousing her in that confirmation of a grin that she oh so craved.

Lord have mercy on me—Betty couldn’t take much more of the sweet accent. She had to back up and take a breather outside. It was hotter inside than out, as always, and the Milky Way was bright as the moon, painting its way across the sky for dreamers who wished on things above. Giving a hard tug at the water pump, she eased the squeaky handle upward so she could splash her face, neck, and cleavage—something to distract her nerves. .

On her way back in, she stopped, motionless, to see Roy standing there in front of her. He was young, early twenties, and well built with his white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the masculine form of his chest. It was all too much for her.

“Darling, I knew as soon as I saw you that this was it,” he said, as if he’d been waiting to say those words to her and only her for all his days.

“Roy, not right now. The show is starting any minute.” Betty shook her head and fanned her face, attempting to shoo away the fainting spell that was about to hit.

“I won’t be taking no for an answer,” he approached, engaging his strong hands on her upper arms then sliding them down softly to her petite wrists, moving next to her satin corset, resting his hands finally on her hourglass waist.

She looked up into his deep-blue eyes as he leaned in to kiss her. At first it was lips on lips, just a light pressure, but then he motioned her head up with a dominant want and parted her mouth for a deeper, tongued embrace. Betty swooned under his heat, and Roy caught her, right there under the bright Milky Way.



***