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help her meet him. His eyes were closed; he
felt the flash, the burn from below instinctively. When he could
finally pry his eyelids apart, the Jeep was gone. Lucia too. There
was only a deep crater in the dirt, blackened and smoking. Pilgrims
were scattered carelessly in the brush. Red and black mingled with
the desert browns, painting the sands with raucous color.
    One day had arrived at last.
     

    CHIMERA

    Flashing in the Gutter 2006 (appeared in two parts –
Chimera and Redux); Surreal South 09, edited by Pinckney Benedict
and Laura Benedict, Press 53, 2009

    I do not sleep anymore.
    I can’t take the risk, not again. I won’t
survive it again.
    “I’ll see you in hell.”
    These words are rooted in my brain. They
aren’t even words, exactly. Not enunciated and pronounced, but
hissed and lingering, seeping into my skin and settling into my
bones, my heart, my mind.
    The room is dark, silent and reproachful.
I’ve forgotten the nightlight again and the gloom is penetrating,
the white walls lost in the abyss. There is no boundary to the
room, it is infinite, black and salty. I can’t smell the sulfur,
even though I’ve been told I would. It is more than the scent of
the sea, slightly brackish, dead fish and seaweed making it
offensive.
    The hissing begins again. “I’m here to take
you. It is your time.”
    I realize this has happened before. I’ve been
in this bed, this room, this murky gloom when the demon came to me.
How many times have I fought him off?
    I turn to face him. He has come through the
shuttered window. The night air blows behind him, sweet jasmine and
bougainvillea overpowered by his rankness. He doesn’t resemble
anything I’ve seen before, any depiction drawn or imagined. He is
taupe, nearly translucent, skinny ferret like body supported by
long boned feet, hands ending in claws that drip a viscous liquid.
I assume it is the remnants of bitter souls from the night’s catch.
I’m not sure how I know he is male, there are no external clues to
his gender.
    “Tiiiiiimmmmeee.” That sibilant voice again.
I feel a drop of slime hit my forehead. His hands are past my
shoulder now, reaching around to scoop me in his arms. His mouth,
crowded with sharp teeth, spit trails stringing between upper and
lower jaws, grows wider, bigger, and I feel the claws rake across
my back. He is pulling me in, consuming, sucking. I feel my soul
depart from my heart and begin to leave my body.
    No. I will not let him take me.
    I take a breath so deep that pieces of his
spittle fly into my mouth and scream. Louder, longer than I knew I
could. My body convulses, tiny tears surface in my throat. And
still I scream. I know, deep in my heart, that he will leave if I
continue. They don’t like screams.
    Flashing a look full of hatred, of lust and
regret, the demon is sucked back through the shutters. They bang
close, startling me with their vehemence. My scream trails off. I
am safe.
    I sit up and turn on the light. My fears are
realized.
    The Chimera has come again.
    He sits in the chair, feet tucked under him
like a pleasant cat. He raises an inky eyebrow, strokes two fingers
through the obsidian silk of his goatee. He flashes a smile at me,
teeth so pearly against the darkness that they’re nearly blue. He
doesn’t say a word. Stroke, smile. Stroke, smile.
    “Bastard,” I whisper.
    He laughs silently, deep in his chest, the
sound reverberating around the room like thunder.
    We made a deal, he and I. It was a long time
ago. I was too young to know any better, he was hunting the night
for victims. A match better suited to novels and nightmares. But he
likes me. Enough that the deal we struck benefits us both.
    I murdered. I sinned. He took. It was that
simple.
    Fetial declarations aside, he takes from
everyone. Good, bad or indifferent. The indifferent, mostly. He
signs for their souls without them ever knowing. It’s that last
glimpse, when they assume they’ll see the light, that shocks the
living hell right