Fixation (4 page)

“What are you gonna do when he calls you?” was Jack’s question as he walked me to my front door where, as usual, Major Fudge lolled in undignified abandon.

“If he calls me.”

“Oh, he’ll call you, all right. Asshole’s a total player. All about the loyal, steady girlfriend and hot one-night stands.”

I shrugged. “I’ll figure that out when it happens. Right now all I wanna do is curl up like an anaconda that just ate a big fat peccary and digest my meal.”

Jack grinned. “And on that lovely image I think I’ll work on my latest piece.”

I hugged him tightly. “Thanks, Jack. You’ve been a lifesaver.”

He hugged me back. “Any time, Maya. And you can borrow Major Fudge for the night if you need some feline companionship.”

Major Fudge chirruped as if in reply. I reached down and rubbed his stomach, pressure building behind my eyes as I thought of Luna.

I ducked my head so Jack wouldn’t see the tears. “I just might do that,” I said, and went inside.

The next week went by in a gray blur, both because of my mood and because San Francisco summer had set in with a vengeance, which meant a perpetual coating of fog over much of the city but especially out near Ocean Beach. The chiropractor’s office where I worked as receptionist was well within the fog belt so I didn’t see a hint of sunshine.

Normally I love overcast weather and would probably thrive in Seattle with all the rain, but a little bit of blue skies might have helped improve my gloomy attitude. As it was, the fog underscored and amplified it, like a horror movie soundtrack providing atmosphere and musical “shock” stings to let the audience know they were supposed to be scared. I was supposed to be depressed, dammit, and the weather was going to make sure I remembered it. I might as well have had The Damned or Lisa Gerrard playing in my head twenty-four/seven.

I mean, I smiled and joked with the patients the way I normally did, but I found myself tearing up at random moments and my energy level was for shit. Dragging myself out of bed each morning qualified as torture as far as I was concerned, only my Nespresso machine (I call her Nessie), a hand-me-down from Jack, who’d bought the latest and greatest model, making it possible for me to get showered and dressed for work.

I thought I was doing a pretty good job of hiding my depression. But Friday morning Sharon, office manager and good friend, arrived with hot cappuccinos and a bag of fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate croissants from the bakery next door. She plopped a cup in front of me and held out the bag. My nostrils twitched as the smell of pastry and chocolate wafted out.

“What’s the occasion?”

“You just seem like you could use a little treat.” In her early thirties, tall, blond, and blue-eyed, Sharon looked every inch her Swedish heritage. She had cheekbones to die for and would be one of those women who aged like fine wine. You know, better with age and all that. She was no-nonsense and brusque most of the time, but had a core of sentimentality, especially where pets were involved. Kind of like a steel-coated marshmallow. She’d gotten me my job at the chiro’s office four years ago and it said a lot for our friendship that I could work for her without any resentment.

Her sense of timing and understanding of the healing powers of chocolate croissants were only part of the reason I adored her. She knew about Luna; I’d mentioned it briefly on Monday and gone about my daily routine. But I didn’t talk about Jesse, preferring to pretend he–and by extension, his betrayal–didn’t exist.

“Thanks.” I ducked my head as yet more unwelcome tears welled up in my eyes. I took a bite of croissant, letting the flaky pastry and dark chocolate melt in my mouth in an almost orgasmic explosion of flavor that succeeded in warding off the impending waterworks display. “So good,” I sighed. “You rock, Sharon. Seriously.”

“I know.” She clinked her coffee cup against mine. “Hang in there, Mai.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“And when you want to tell me what happened with Jesse, I’ll be all ears.” I looked up, startled, and she raised an eyebrow. “Not one word bout him all week? Of course something happened.”

I snorted. “Okay, Ms. Psychic. I promise I’ll tell you all about it next week. Maybe it’ll seem funny by then.”

“Just remember”— Sharon picked up a stack of patient files in prep for insurance claims—“no man can ever make you as happy as a good chocolate croissant.”

Taking another bite of the one in front of me, I could almost believe it. As for Jesse, I let my answering machine at home and my mobile voice mail do the work for me. I deleted texts and e-mails he sent. While part of me wanted to tell him off, I just didn’t have any bandwidth available for drama. He could just go pin his new stick insect or whatever. Okay, eew, yes, that was kind of gross, but too bad.

That night, when I got home to yet another message from Jesse on my answering machine—along with five text messages and a few e-mails—wondering “Hey, you okay, babe? Haven’t heard back from you and I’m back in town”—
Yeah, having never left it
—“so let’s get something on the books for the weekend.”

Yeah, chocolate croissant definitely in the lead about now.By the time Saturday morning rolled around, I was ready for the weekend but not for getting up at 6 a.m., an hour earlier than my workday wake-up time. I forced myself up, though, knowing that to arrive at FPC later than 8 a.m. was to invite guff from Jeri and Patrick. Even the senior volunteers, who now included me after five years, were expected to have their butts in the staff trailer on time or, better yet, a few minutes early.

“I do this for love,” I muttered as I stepped under a spray of cold water for a quick minute rinse and wake-up. I threw on jeans and a bleach-stained T-shirt and sweatshirt, downed a double espresso courtesy of Nessie, and hit the road, nominally awake for the drive down south. I made good time, with enough to spare to stop at a little local bakery at the turnoff up into the Santa Cruz mountains and get more coffee and an apple fritter the size of a small plate. I finished both about the time I pulled into FPC’s employee parking lot, now wide awake thanks to the combination of sugar and caffeine. I was anxious to get on with the day’s work—and to see Nagual.

We had a small crew today: me, Beth, and a twenty-something hippie type named Adam. Three people instead of the usual five or six, so the basic cleaning took a half-hour longer than usual, especially as this was only Adam’s third day. Each enclosure needed to be raked, poop cleaned out, the sinks and food bowls scrubbed and bleached. With the smaller felines we could just go in their cages and do our thing, sometimes giving the cats attention if they wanted it, or just keeping an eye out to make sure they weren’t about to pounce.

But with the larger ones, leopards, jaguars, mountain lions, and such, we had to tempt them into their den boxes before going in to clean. Depending on the cat, this could be either a very easy task or a big pain in the ass. This particular day it was pretty much a pain in the ass, with a majority of felines deciding they’d rather annoy the shit out of us than get a piece of raw chicken just by going into their den box and letting us close it after them. I could totally read their “let’s fuck with the humans” vibe going on.

Asshole cats.

By the time we got to the quarantine area, it was almost 10 a.m., when the zoo portion of the compound opened to the public. That meant we needed docents in the yard. Luckily we didn’t have food prep today–the cats fasted two days a week other than their den box bait to try to replicate their eating patterns in the wild.

I looked at Beth. “I’ll do the Cub Scout tour at one if you cover the yard now.”

Beth raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Yup. Adam can back me up if I need it, but you are totally free and clear.”

“Done deal.” Beth gathered up her shovel and rake, and headed off to change shirts at the staff trailer and monitor the yard.

I approached the quarantine enclosure, Adam behind me. As I drew close to it, a golden blur shot across the expanse of the cage and hit the mesh right in front of me. Both Adam and I jumped back, my heart beating double-time in my chest.

Nagual bounced off the mesh and paced the length of the enclosure once before running back to the fencing and placing both front paws on it, tongue lolling out in what looked distinctly like a feline grin.

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

Nagual gave a coughing grunt and flopped down on the concrete floor.

Adam stared at him in wonderment. “Is, like, his behavior normal?”

I shook my head. “Not even.”

I crouched down in front of the enclosure. “Are you deliberately being a pain in the butt?” Nagual rolled on his back, never taking his eyes off me.

“That would be a yes, huh?”

Adam squatted down next to me. “It’s almost like he understands what you’re saying.”

“I think they read our tone and our body language more than anything else.” I watched as Nagual rolled again, emerald gaze locked on me. “Try not to anthropomorphize them too much or you’ll get yourself hurt.”

“Huh?” Adam gave me a blank stare.

“Don’t ascribe human qualities to animals.”

“Ascribe?”

I barely stopped myself from smacking a hand against my forehead. “Don’t make the mistake of believing they think or feel the way we do.”

“Oh. Okay.” He still looked dubious but slightly less confused so I left it at that. But jeez, Louise, didn’t anyone actually take English in school these days?

“Do we have any chicken left?” I asked, walking past Nagual’s cage to the one next door. The cement floor of the quarantine was covered with very healthy piles of jaguar shit, which meant coaxing Nagual into the adjacent enclosure via another guillotine gate so we could clean his cage and pull out his empty food bowl.

Adam tossed me a chicken leg from a battered metal bowl. I caught it easily–years of practice–and waved it temptingly at Nagual. “This can be yours, baby boy.” To Adam I said, “Get the gate, would you?”

Adam jumped down next to me on the cement walkway outside the quarantine, landing heavily and knocking into me. Nagual immediately charged the fence in front of him, teeth bared.

Adam took a step backward. “He’s pissed off, isn’t he?”

“Nagual, are you pissed off? Or are you just being a pain in the butt?”

Nagual coughed and backed off the fence.

“Right, pain in the butt.”

Adam stared at me. “It’s like he understands what you’re saying.”

I snorted. “What did I say about anthropomorphizing?”

“Uh...yeah. Right.”

“Now get the gate, okay?”

Adam pulled the bar locking the guillotine gate and grabbed the pulley, slowly cranking up the gate. Nagual watched his movements with narrowed eyes.

I walked over to Nagual’s cage and held out the chicken leg. “Baby, you can have this.” Nagual’s gaze immediately shifted to me and the chicken, although he didn’t fixate on the food as some of the cats did. “All you have to do is come to the other enclosure so we can clean this one out, okay?” I slowly backed way until I was in front of the adjoining enclosure. “I mean, do you really want to live in a place with jaguar poop all over the floor?”

I swear Nagual shook his head before walking very calmly through the guillotine gate and up to the fence where I stood. Adam immediately shut the gate behind him and I pushed the chicken leg through the mesh and cooed, “That’s a good baby.” Nagual took the leg in his teeth, pulled it through the fence, and ate it, his manner and movements almost dainty.

“Now that is just weird,” said Adam.

I couldn’t argue with him.

We cleaned the quarantine cage, using a hose to clean the concrete floor when our rakes and shovels didn’t quite do the job. I noticed Nagual eyeballing the water and sent a tentative jet his way. He immediately leaped into the spray so I opened up the nozzle and hosed him down. He loved it, turning from side to side as if to make sure every inch of his fur made contact with the water. I indulged him for a few minutes, then turned the hose off, coiled it up, and tucked it out of the way.

When we finished cleaning, Adam hoisted the gate and Nagual very deliberately strolled through to his enclosure. He jumped on top of the den box, muscles rippling under glossy fur. Gorgeous.

“We should probably get out into the yard.” Adam gestured down toward the exhibit area. “Nearly eleven and it looks like we’re getting a crowd.”

He was right; we had at least fifteen people that I could see, which meant there were probably more out of sight. Too many for one docent to keep an eye on, even one as vigilant as Beth.

“See ya later, baby.” I waved at Nagual lolling on the den box. He gave a coughing grunt in response.

“I swear that cat is talking to you,” said Adam as we put away rakes, bucket, and shovel in the storage shed. “I think he is like totally crushing on you.”

I snorted. “Cats don’t ‘crush’.”

“This one does.”

I rolled my eyes. “See you in the yard.” Hurrying into the staff trailer, I changed into fresh jeans and a hunter green FPC T-shirt with a picture of Sheba, one of our Siberian tigers, on the front. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed to the yard, mentally girding my loins for the upcoming Cub Scout tour.

Four o’clock rolled around and I heaved a sigh of relief as Beth chased the last of the visitors from the yard into the gift shop for last-minute purchases before we closed for the day. Adam followed them out to the parking lot when they left to lock the rolling chain link gate behind them while we hung out in the shop with Jeri as she cashed out the register. She slammed the register shut and smiled with satisfaction. “Good day. Who wants to go to El Puerco for margaritas and carnitas?”

I took a quick mental inventory of my plans for the evening. Go home. Shower. Have a glass of wine or a G&T. Watch a stupid movie on SyFy Channel or one of my Netflix DVDs. Have another glass of wine or G&T and get maudlin over the loss of my beloved Luna. Have another drink and get maudlin over getting dumped by Jesse. Fall asleep on the couch as goofy CGI sharks or whatever terrorized bad actors on my flatscreen TV. The only downside was the drive home.

As if reading my mind, Jeri continued, “If you want to spend the night, Maya, the extra bed in the staff trailer is free.”

“I have my sleeping bag,” I said. “Mind if I sleep outside near the new kid?”

“Even better,” said Jeri. “You can keep an eye on him. He’s a strange one, gotta say.”

I took a shower in the staff trailer and changed into clean jeans, T-shirt, and a hunter green hoodie. I always carry a change of clothes in the car, along with bottled water, energy bars, and a heavy-duty Maglite that subs as a blunt weapon. When you live in earthquake territory and drive through hinky neighborhoods, it pays to be prepared.

A couple of hours and two margaritas later, I made my way just a little unsteadily by the light of sparsely placed solar-powered lights to the patch of grass in front of the quarantine enclosures. An iron barred fence separated the grass from the cement walkway outside the cages, so there was no danger of rolling too near Nagual even if I tossed and turned in my sleep.

I peered into the cage—and found Nagual sitting smack up against the front. Staring at me. Again.

“Jeri’s right,” I said. “You’re a strange one.”

He grunted, almost as if in response.

Sleeping under the stars on a temperate evening was one of my favorite things to do at FPC, but a cold wind had kicked up while we were at dinner, cutting right through the layers of T-shirt and hoodie. Throwing my sleeping bag and pillow on the ground, I wriggled into the warmth of the down-filled nylon, turning so I lay on one side facing the cage. Something jabbed into my ribs, a rock or something. I sat back up again and felt under the sleeping bag, finding only grass. I patted down my jeans and hoodie and found the culprit hiding in the pocket of the latter: the little idol I’d found in Nagual’s crate. “Got you, you little devil.” I pulled it out and lay back down on my side so I could see Nagual through the gaps in the protective fence.

I set the figurine down in front of me. “See what I found?” I said to Nagual, pointing at it. His gaze actually followed the direction of my finger, and stopped when it came to the statuette.

As if that wasn’t strange enough, what happened next was just too weird to believe. Nagual’s eyes actually narrowed. Then his mouth opened in what I could only describe as a grin. You know that happy, almost dopey look dogs got when the world was their oyster?

I looked from him to the statuette, then back again to Nagual, who appeared to be doing the same back and forth between it and me. “Is this yours, big fella?”

He let out a short coughing grunt—and I could swear he nodded.

I shook my head. Something very out of the ordinary was going on with this jag, but I was too tired from the long day and the two margaritas to try and figure it out. I snuggled down into the warmth of my sleeping bag and shut my eyes ... then opened them again as I felt the weight of Nagual’s stare. “Would you please knock that off? It’s really creepy trying to sleep with someone staring at you.”

And I’ll be damned if he didn’t hunker down onto his belly, rest his massive head on his front paws and close his eyes.

“That’s better,” I said as a yawn nearly unhinged my jaws.

I was asleep within minutes.

* * * *

“
What is your name?” The deep male voice slid into my mind and wrapped around me like warm caramel.

“Maya,” I whispered.

“Ah...” The word wafted out on an exhalation. “Open your eyes, Maya.”

My eyes flew open as I woke up, startled from a deep sleep by a dream I couldn’t remember. For a few seconds I didn’t know where I was; then the deep quiet of the country punctuated by the occasional grunt or growl from one of the cats penetrated my consciousness. I relaxed back into my sleeping bag with a relieved sigh.

“Maya.”

I sat bolt upright, hands clutching the top of the bag to me like the heroine from a turn-of-the-century melodrama shielding her bosom from the mustachioed villain. Was I hearing things? It sounded like—

“Maya, look at me.”

The voice, exotically accented, unmistakably male, and as decadent as a box of See’s Candy, came from Nagual’s cage. Slowly extracting myself from the sleeping bag, I turned my head towards the quarantine—and realized I was still dreaming.

Inside the cage stood a tall, dark, and yes, handsome man with glossy black hair past his shoulders. Lean, well muscled and, well, naked. I caught a glimpse of his penis and even by dream standards it was impressive. He looked like he should be modeling for those paintings of Aztec warriors holding the swooning maidens you always see in Mexican restaurants. El Puerco has several. His nose was gently aquiline, with a small bump at the bridge and slightly flared nostrils. Lips full without being feminine, almost impossibly sensual. I’ve never seen eyes like his before, green with flecks of gold, intense and glowing in the light of the cage. Which didn’t have any lights, so where was the weird amber shimmer coming from? For that matter, where was Nagual?

Oh. Right. Dreaming. I’d almost forgotten.

He stared into my eyes and smiled. I knew that smile. Didn’t I?

“Where is Nagual?”
Seems like I didn’t need to speak out loud either.

“He is here.”
He touched his chest.

“Do I know you?”

“I have known you forever...”

His voice and the words they spoke caressed my nerve endings like the rough tongue of a jaguar. I felt a sudden heat unfurl inside me and realized I felt the same why about him.

“You have something of mine, Maya.”
The way he said—no,
thought
my name; his lips didn’t move—in that exotic accent was like a caress along my skin. I shivered with pleasure.

I held up the little figurine.
“This?”

He nodded.
“Would you bring it to me?”

I got to my feet, shivering as the cold air penetrated my clothes. No climate control in a dream, I guess.

The iron of the fence chilled my hands as I hoisted myself over it onto the cement walkway, tucking the figurine back in my pocket as I did so. Once over, I approached the front of the cage.
“Who are you?”

“My name is Balam.”

He pressed his hands up against the iron of the cage, the openings not quite big enough for him to slip it through. Without thinking, I put my hands up against his. I felt something like a low-level electric current run from his hands up into my arms, coursing through the rest of my body. Thin, cold strips of metal pressed into my fingers and palms, but the heat of his flesh against mine burned the cold away.

“Are you human?”

He smiled, showing remarkably long and sharp canines.
“Sometimes.”
His fingertips caressed the palms of my hands. My knees went weak and my nipples stiffened beneath T-shirt and hoodie.

“Why are you here?”

“Trapped by an enemy whom I thought was a ... friend.”

Sudden images of the beautiful fierce woman played through my head. I saw her face underlit in the glow of lit torches, triumphant and cruel as I—he lay on the ground before her. She held something in her hand, thrust it forward so he could see it better. The little crouching figurine. She chanted in a language I didn’t recognize, but Balam did, and I felt his horror as he realized what she was doing.

The dream within a dream ended and I once more stood before the cage, hands still touching Balam’s.

“I must have it back.”

“What does it do?”

“Without it I am trapped in only one form in the waking world. I cannot go home again. Anani would do much damage in my absence.”

“She’s the woman who trapped you?
He nodded.
“Will you help me?”

“Of course.”
Reluctantly I pulled one hand away from his and retrieved the figurine.
“Here.”
I poked it through one of the openings, taking care not to let go of it until Balam had it in a firm grip.

His face lit up in triumph not unlike the expression on Anani’s face when in my vision, and his features seemed to shift back and forth between human and feline, the characteristics of both melting into one another and morphing again even as I watched. This was too freaky, even for a dream. My breath caught in my throat and I took a step back, then another, getting ready to run.

“Wait.”

Somehow both a command and a request, the single word stopped me from bolting.

“I need you, Maya. I am weak and must replenish my magics if I am to break Anani’s spell. Will you help me?”

That question again. But this time I hesitated.
“What do you need?”

His face totally human again, he gazed at me with a mixture of tenderness and lust I’d never seen before.
“I need
you
.”
He held out his hand as if expecting me to take it and I would have if not for the cage bars that—that were no longer there.
“Come to me.”

It was a dream so I went with it. I took Balam’s hand and he drew me towards him into another place.

* * * *

We stood on the edge of a perfect clearing nestled against the edge of immense trees draped with vines. Soft grass replaced the cold concrete that had been under our feet. Warm sunlight, improbable tropical flowers with multicolored blossoms so bright and fragrant they seemed almost alien. A waterfall splashed down into a small crystalline aqua lake with a tiny strip of white sandy beach sparkling up against the water.

Why didn’t I have dreams like this
every
night?

“Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“No, Maya.
You
are perfect.”
With that Balam leaned down and kissed me, lips firm and oh-so-real against mine. When his tongue slipped inside my mouth, I met it gladly with my own, my body melding against his as he pressed a strong hand against my lower back to hold me closer to him. I felt the heat of his groin through the denim of my jeans, suddenly hyper aware of his nakedness ... and magnificent body.

Why did I still have clothes on? Shouldn’t I be naked in this kind of dream? Or at least wearing a whisper-thin slip of silk clinging to my curves and flowing to the ground?

Balam’s hands slipped under my T-shirt to the clasp of my bra, unhooking it with experienced fingers. I guess this jaguar got around. He gently pulled both shirt and hoodie over my head, trapping my arms in the fabric with a firm twist of his hand. I gave a small gasp, heat coiling in my stomach, anticipation mixed with just a hint of fear as he lowered me to the ground, drawing my arms and hands above my head, his green-gold eyes staring into mine.

“What are you doing?”

His lips curved in a seductive smile.
“Whatever you want...”
His mouth descended on mine in a soul-shattering kiss; lips, tongue, and teeth doing things that drove me wild. I arched up against him, arms straining to be free so I could wrap them around his torso and pull him even closer.

He nibbled on my lower lip, planted little butterfly kisses on my jawline and neck. Then he moved lower, tongue like rough velvet tracing a path from my neck to my collarbone, then down to my breasts. Licking first one nipple, then the other, my dreamworld lover used that deliciously rough tongue of his to tease them both into stiff buds, so sensitive to the touch I almost came on the spot. Balam laughed softly, his warm breath on my skin like an aphrodisiac. One hand slipped down to the waistband of my jeans, unhooking the top button with clever fingers, pulling the zipper down with deliberate slowness, prolonging our anticipation.

His fingers slipped inside my lace thong, teasing the edges of my most sensitive area but never coming into real contact. I growled softly and thrust my hips against his hand, wanting more.

“What do you want?”
He smiled down at me, canines lengthening as I watched.

“You.”

I pulled my hands free—or maybe he let them go—and wrapped both arms around his back, feeling the muscles that rippled underneath like steel cables. I nipped at his neck, tasting spices and the salty-sweet flavor of his sweat.

“More,”
I growled, not sure if I was thinking or talking out loud at this point.

“You will have more.”
He made a guttural sound that could have been a laugh or a growl or both. With one casual sweep of his hand, he ripped my jeans and thong off my body, literally shredded the fabric with a hand that now had claws. The tips grazed my flesh with a slight stinging sensation just short of pain. My nipples stiffened even more, so hard and sensitive that the slightest brush of his skin against them made me squirm with desire.

My hands, caressing the sleek, smoothness of his skin, felt coarse fur sprouting under my fingers, growing impossibly fast like the time-lapse film of a flower unfurling. I looked up into Balam’s face as his nose flattened, his teeth elongated, and his green-gold eyes took on a feral expression that should have terrified me ... but instead aroused me to the point of no return.