Walking with Jaguars: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Circe was exhausted.

She had only worked the lunch rush shift, but waiting tables always took it out of her.  She smelled of grease, and fried meat.  Why couldn’t she ever come home smelling like cheesecake?

Circe pulled her beat up Honda into the long winding driveway of their ranch style house.  It was almost five o’clock, so Carlise should have already been off the bus for half an hour.  She didn’t like leaving him alone, but it was only for thirty minutes, and Circe didn’t know she was going to be late that day.

Her practical shoes crunched on the gravel drive.  The keys rustled in her hand as she looked for her house key--which was missing.  She held up her keyring to look closer.

It seemed like it had broken off.  It must have happened when she was rushing out the door; she remembered locking the door that morning.  Carlisle was home, though, he could unlock the door for her from the inside.

She climbed the short three steps to the porch, walked up to the front door, and froze.

The front door was not only unlocked, but cracked open.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

“Carlisle?” she called cautiously.  No answer.

Circe clenched her fist, and slowly pushed the antique wooden door open.  

Great going, Circe.  As if you haven’t seen this horror flick a hundred times before.  Nothing was going to stop her from checking on her little brother though.  Not even spooky dark houses with open doors and crazy nightmares from the night before.

Oh what she wouldn’t give for her Ruger right about now.

The lights were off in the front living area, and she couldn’t see any on throughout the rest of the house from her view.  She was thankful for the brief sunlight that shone through the front door, especially since the ceiling light was acting up again and not turning on.  Despite the bit of light shining in, most of the house was dark, and not to mention, it was creepy quiet.

“Carlisle?” she asked again, calling through the house.

I can smell you.

Circe’s head whipped around as she gasped.  She looked around for the voice that had boomed through her senses.

Nothing.

“You’re going crazy, Circe, and starting to hallucinate” she mumbled quietly to herself.  Not to mention the deep hallucinated voice was creepy.  I can smell you?  Who the hell says stuff like that anyway?  Not even in horror movies.  Probably a reflection of her previous thoughts of smelling like greasy foods.

Circe turned back around and gasped again as she stumbled back a few steps, a body appearing in front of her.

“Carlisle!” she yelled in frustration.

“Why are you yelling?” he asked her, pulling the headphones out of his ears.

“What are you doing walking around in the dark, and why is the front door unlocked and open?” she asked with a huff.

“I told you a few days ago to call the electricians.  The wiring is getting worse.  The only lights working right now are the kitchen and bedrooms.  As for the door,” he pulled her key out of his pocket and handed it to her.” I found this on the front porch when I got home, so knew you wouldn’t have a key to get in.”  He looked around her and blushed as he looked at the door.  “And I guess I didn’t close it all the way when I came in...”

She sighed a bit of relief, then went to shut the door.  “I promise I’ll call the electrician.”

“Good.”  Carlisle started walking towards the kitchen then turned on the light.  “Oh, a package came for you today too,” he said, handing her a large padded envelope off the kitchen table.

Circe took it, and looked it over.  No return address.  “Huh, I don’t remember ordering anything.”  She noticed it was address to a “C. Kasmir”.  Wasn’t Carlisle then.  His last name was Holden.

Circe walked leisurely over to the kitchen counter, and tore open the package with a kitchen knife.  Carlisle sat with her at the kitchen table watching her curiously, his headphone forgotten.

“What is it?” he asked impatiently.

“A book,” Circe informed him, pulling it out.  It was a hardback old library book on Aztec and Mayan mythology.  “Odd.  I’m not sure why this was sent.”

“Dont you have a mythology class or something this semester.?”

“Yeah, but it’s Classic Mythology.  Like Greek, Roman, and Norse.  I don’t recall anything on the syllabus about Mesoamerican myths.”

Carlisle shrugged.  “One of Mom’s weird souvenir gifts?”

“I suppose,” Circe mused.  Occasionally their mother would send them crazy gifts from the random places she visited when she disappeared.  Circe held out the book towards Carlisle.  “Fancy a read?”

“Sounds more entertaining than the last two books she sent me,” He said, taking the book into his hands.

“Well Pat the Bunny and Goodnight Moon are not exactly age appropriate for an eight year old.”  Circe chuckled.

“I’ll say!” he exclaimed then got up from his chair.  “Call me when supper’s ready,” he said, as he opened the, book and headed towards his room.  Well at least someone would get enjoyment out of the book.

Circe changed out of her smelly work clothes, and showered off.  Afterwards she made her way back to the kitchen to schedule an appointment for an electrician to come out and look at their lights in the living room and hallway, then proceeded to cook.

One thing she did like to do was cook. It was calming, and took her mind off things.  One would think being around food all day she would hate cooking, but she enjoyed it thoroughly.

She looked behind her as she heard footsteps in the kitchen.

“Um, Circe,” Carlisle said a bit timidly.  You might want to take a look at this.

“What is it?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron and walking over to him.

“Here,” he said thrusting the book back up to her.  “It’s,” he paused, “bookmarked.”

Circe frowned and flipped through the book.  Sure enough several pages were flagged.  They included: a chapter on two brother-gods, Quetzalcoatl, “feathered serpant”, god of wind and life, and Tezcatlipoca, a jaguar god of night and sorcery.  The next was a few pages on Aztec society and courtship.  The woman was usually not asked permission, but if she was ever mistreated, or not well provided for, her family could take her back.  Women were also considered more precious when they bore children for their husbands.  The last bookmarked chapters was more disturbing.

It was a chapter on human sacrifice.  A paragraph that was highlighted was about a young princess who was sacrificed in order to become the goddess Yaocihuatl.  After she was sacrificed, a priest came out wearing the woman’s skin.

Circe shuddered and closed the book.  “Maybe you shouldn’t be reading this.  Very odd, I don’t know why anyone would bookmark those things.”

“It gets even weirder,” Carlisle told her.

“What do you mean?” she asked looking down at his face, that was twisted with discomfort.

He opened the book to the very last page.  There was a note in it:

Circe,

I thought you might find these useful.

-Your Father,

C. Kasmir