Lemon Curry?
© 2025 by Walter Reimer

Bernie Phlute ©  eocostello
Titles by  marmelmm
Music by Ferde Grofé
Suits by ‘Rick’ of Altoona

Thumbnail art by  rockbaker

Part Eighteen.



Enrique sat on a raised bench overlooking a practice ring as two luchadors, a puma and a coyote, circled each other warily as they searched for an opening. They suddenly lunged, grappling each other before the puma succeeded in grasping the coyote and using a sudden twist of his hips to throw the canine to the mat.

A coach gave a few tips to the combatants, and the two squared off again as a bear came up to Enrique and murmured in the goat’s ear, “He will see you. Come.” Enrique got up and followed the bear through the gym, past several wrestlers who were practicing holds and throws. The bear ushered the goat into a small back office and closed the door.

“I am told that you need help,” said the figure seated behind the desk. He was a large mel in a suit that barely concealed his muscular body, and his species was unrecognizable because of the silver full-head mask he wore.

Enrique squared his shoulders and began to explain the situation to El Héroe Popular.


***


The blood had been procured, and the bodies of the victims had been set aside to await the feast that normally followed a successful hunt. The three male chupacabras crouched, licking their lips in anticipation of a meal as the Priestess raised a full clay pitcher over the mummified body of their Queen.

“May this blood nourish you,” the Priestess intoned as she lowered the pitcher and poured a generous amount into the corpse’s slightly open mouth.

“May this blood sustain you,” and she poured more into the mouth, stepping back as the Queen’s throat worked, swallowing the fluid.

“May this blood return you to your former beauty,” and the female chupacabra poured the remainder over the body. The Priestess and the others lowered their heads and chanted as flesh firmed, skin took on a luster, and the Queen’s chest began to rise and fall as she started to breathe.

With a wracking cough, Sorena tensed and moved, her tail stirring a small cloud of dust. The Priestess set aside the pitcher and took up a robe that she used to cover Queen Sorena’s nude form, stepping back and bowing as the Queen sat up. Sorena looked around and said, “I expected more here. Where are they?”

“Dread Mistress,” the erstwhile gardener said, still gazing fixedly at the floor, “we are all that are left here.”

“He speaks truth, my Queen,” the Priestess said. “Many of us have been hunted, and others have moved elsewhere. We alone have been faithful and have awaited your return.”

Sorena nodded. “How many days until,” she paused, raising her muzzle as if sniffing the air, “ah, yes, the time grows near for the young woman to be sacrificed. You did well in reviving me now.” She gazed down at the three males. “You have served well. Go, and feast.” The trio scrambled to their feet and ran for the adjoining room, and Sorena beckoned the Priestess closer. “I have a task for you,” the Queen said.

“You have but to name it, my Queen,” the Priestess said.

“Get me some coffee.”

The Priestess bowed to conceal her smile; it had been, after all, one hundred eighty-nine years.

“Of course, my Queen.”


***


Dorpf glanced at the radium dial of his wristwatch and said, “It’s getting close to midnight. Do you think we should take a break?” He paused and swung his flashlight around to show Phlute seated on a small bench in the garden, head tipped back and fast asleep. “Sir?” The terrier reached out and nudged the stork as the avian began to snore.

“Hmmph-whut!?” Phlute spluttered and shot to his feet before swaying as his blood pressure gave him a moment of vertigo. “I’m awake! I’m awake! I was just resting my eyes,” he said. “Get that thing out of my face,” and he batted ineffectually at Dorpf’s flashlight before the terrier swung it out of the way. “That’s better. Now, what’d you say?”

Dorpf shrugged. “I thought it might be time to take a break.”

Phlute eyed him. “Going soft on me already? Sure, have a seat,” and he moved aside so Dorpf could sit down. “I’ve been thinking.”

“You have.”

“Yeah.” The stork leaned back and stretched his legs out as he craned his head back, looking up at the sky. “I’m thinking that it’s good the two of us are doing this first patrol around the house. Get the lay of the land, as it were.”

“Yes?”

“I’m thinking that the next night, and for the rest of the operation, we could rotate. One of us out here, and the other in the guesthouse resting.”

Dorpf flattened his ears as he thought about it. “But if there’s some supernatural threat – “

A flutter in the dim light as Phlute gestured dismissively. “I didn’t think you bought that. I think the Professor’s just got a crazy idea in his head, and he’s being overprotective. I didn’t see the girl having any brothers around, so he’s just trying to protect her, you know?”

“But – “

“Pfft. Take it from me, Jacob – there’s no such thing as chu – chu – chupa-whatevers.” Phlute got to his feet and switched his flashlight on. “C’mon, we’ve still got the other half of the night to get through.”

“Okay,” Dorpf said in a doubtful tone. He stood up and looked at the stars overhead.

He shuddered slightly and moved to catch up with Phlute.





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