attachments. Which was why he needed to
keep himself away from Hope.
Hope wasn’t a woman to be dallied with. She
wouldn’t understand a casual affair offering comfort and amusement
for them both. He laughed to himself. She would probably be shocked
to know that he thought of her that way, but how could he not.
Zaftig, the Germans called it. She was tall,
full-bodied and beautiful with hair so soft and lustrous it
inflamed a man’s senses and eyes so warm they could melt the
coldest heart. She had no idea of her beauty and that made it all
the more alluring. She covered herself from head to foot, but he’d
held her in his arms, all be it innocently, and he knew what
wonders were hidden under those baggy clothes. He wanted her. He
wasn’t fool enough to deny it. But he would never have her. She
deserved better.
He took a left at the next corner and headed
for the river front. The weather was still winter cold and the rain
from the day before left a dampness in the air that seemed to cling
to the surrounding area. An icy wind whipped off the water and tore
at Nico’s leather duster. Normally a hot bed of illegal activity,
tonight the place looked deserted. Evidently the raw weather had
proved too chilling for criminals as well as the homeless who, in
warmer weather, could usually be found sleeping in doorways or
curled under loading docks. On a night like this, the local
shelters would be filled and those that eschewed their minimal
comfort would find shelter in garbage laden alleys where the wind
could not reach them.
A mighty gust blew over the wharf. Nico
lifted his head and inhaled deeply. Amidst the lingering odors of
refuse, fuels and unwashed bodies he caught a faint trace of demon.
He headed into the wind, scanning left and right, searching for the
source. He changed direction slightly when another gust brought a
faint but telling odor from the far end of the wharf. Carried on
the wind, the faint murmur of voices reached his sensitive ears
though he was still too far away to distinguish the words. The
voices were carried away as quickly as they came.
He called the white light and sped through
the darkness, but when he reached the last pier, the demon was gone
leaving only his stench to be carried on the wind. Nico was tempted
to follow yet something held him back and he took the time to
search the pier and its surrounding water. A body floated face down
in the water between two boats tied to the pier.
He knew it was too late before he entered the
water. There was no heartbeat, no sign of life. He couldn’t leave
her there to bloat beyond recognition. He tossed his coat aside,
kicked off his shoes and dove.
It was a young woman, plain faced and
emaciated. Beyond the mask of death he could see her eyes sunken in
darkened pits, her lips pulled back in a grimace of pain on her
skeletal face. This wasn’t demon work, at least none that he’d ever
seen before, so why was the demon here and who was with it. He
smelled one demon. He’d heard two voices and the dead woman hadn’t
spoken for hours. He searched her clothing for identification, not
expecting any, and wasn’t disappointed. The only thing he found was
a torn piece of paper carefully folded in the pocket. It was too
wet to unfold so he tucked it in the inner pocket of his coat
before making the anonymous call to 911.
He was cold, wet and stank of the river. It
was time to go home.
*****
“Hey Nico, new cologne?’
“Eau de Outhouse, isn’t it?”
“Dov. Col.” Nico nodded to each in turn.
“Your wit might be better appreciated if you didn’t look like two
clowns in need of a cream pie.”
The twins were in the kitchen, one mashing
potatoes and the other ladling corn into a bowl. They both wore
aprons, the bibs high on their necks with the strings tied around
their chests. They looked down at their pastel ruffles and
grinned.
“We’re making a statement. It says we’re
secure in our masculinity.” Dov smoothed the pink cotton over
keep himself away from Hope.
Hope wasn’t a woman to be dallied with. She
wouldn’t understand a casual affair offering comfort and amusement
for them both. He laughed to himself. She would probably be shocked
to know that he thought of her that way, but how could he not.
Zaftig, the Germans called it. She was tall,
full-bodied and beautiful with hair so soft and lustrous it
inflamed a man’s senses and eyes so warm they could melt the
coldest heart. She had no idea of her beauty and that made it all
the more alluring. She covered herself from head to foot, but he’d
held her in his arms, all be it innocently, and he knew what
wonders were hidden under those baggy clothes. He wanted her. He
wasn’t fool enough to deny it. But he would never have her. She
deserved better.
He took a left at the next corner and headed
for the river front. The weather was still winter cold and the rain
from the day before left a dampness in the air that seemed to cling
to the surrounding area. An icy wind whipped off the water and tore
at Nico’s leather duster. Normally a hot bed of illegal activity,
tonight the place looked deserted. Evidently the raw weather had
proved too chilling for criminals as well as the homeless who, in
warmer weather, could usually be found sleeping in doorways or
curled under loading docks. On a night like this, the local
shelters would be filled and those that eschewed their minimal
comfort would find shelter in garbage laden alleys where the wind
could not reach them.
A mighty gust blew over the wharf. Nico
lifted his head and inhaled deeply. Amidst the lingering odors of
refuse, fuels and unwashed bodies he caught a faint trace of demon.
He headed into the wind, scanning left and right, searching for the
source. He changed direction slightly when another gust brought a
faint but telling odor from the far end of the wharf. Carried on
the wind, the faint murmur of voices reached his sensitive ears
though he was still too far away to distinguish the words. The
voices were carried away as quickly as they came.
He called the white light and sped through
the darkness, but when he reached the last pier, the demon was gone
leaving only his stench to be carried on the wind. Nico was tempted
to follow yet something held him back and he took the time to
search the pier and its surrounding water. A body floated face down
in the water between two boats tied to the pier.
He knew it was too late before he entered the
water. There was no heartbeat, no sign of life. He couldn’t leave
her there to bloat beyond recognition. He tossed his coat aside,
kicked off his shoes and dove.
It was a young woman, plain faced and
emaciated. Beyond the mask of death he could see her eyes sunken in
darkened pits, her lips pulled back in a grimace of pain on her
skeletal face. This wasn’t demon work, at least none that he’d ever
seen before, so why was the demon here and who was with it. He
smelled one demon. He’d heard two voices and the dead woman hadn’t
spoken for hours. He searched her clothing for identification, not
expecting any, and wasn’t disappointed. The only thing he found was
a torn piece of paper carefully folded in the pocket. It was too
wet to unfold so he tucked it in the inner pocket of his coat
before making the anonymous call to 911.
He was cold, wet and stank of the river. It
was time to go home.
*****
“Hey Nico, new cologne?’
“Eau de Outhouse, isn’t it?”
“Dov. Col.” Nico nodded to each in turn.
“Your wit might be better appreciated if you didn’t look like two
clowns in need of a cream pie.”
The twins were in the kitchen, one mashing
potatoes and the other ladling corn into a bowl. They both wore
aprons, the bibs high on their necks with the strings tied around
their chests. They looked down at their pastel ruffles and
grinned.
“We’re making a statement. It says we’re
secure in our masculinity.” Dov smoothed the pink cotton over
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