Chad wiped the bar down for the final time and looked around at the empty place before catching Jennifer’s gaze.

“Thanks for hanging around, even though a woman like you has better things to do with her time.”

“Oh?  Like what?” she smiled as she shrugged on her denim jacket and headed towards the door.  He flicked off the lights then grabbed her hand.  He brought her fingers up, brushed them lightly against his lips as he turned towards her at the door and stopped.

“You sure you want to come home with me?  I’d completely understand if you want to go on a real date first…”

“Real date?  Isn’t that what we’ve been having all night?”  Chad opened the bar door, pulled her through it and locked up.

“Yeah, sure it was…especially the parts when I was working and serving drinks all night.”

“Oh, that.  Foreplay, totally.”

He shook his head while smiling at her.

“Then, I can’t do it.  I want to see you again…soon.  With one-night stands, you rarely see the person again, let alone talk to them.”

When she gave him a sharp look, he put up his hands, “That’s what I hear!  Not from personal experience, I assure you,” he said praying his little lie would go undetected.

“Sure.  You, big burly blond, you’re telling me you’ve never had a fling with a girl that you’ve never seen again?  Uh-huh. I believe that,” she said with a soft snort.

Chad pulled Jennifer close.

“So what, I’ve had a few fun nights?  I was careful and I get tested once a year. I’m clean and ready for something more than what I’ve had in the past.  Are you?”

He bent his head letting his soft lips play with hers until he felt her tension subside. He slid his tongue between her parted lips.

The Fury felt the host start the process of running away from the sheer terror of the intimacy.  The Fury seethed.  Only recently had the memory of this host’s abusive father and uncle surfaced; much too recently for the Fury to have alleviated the host of the pain and trauma of all those memories.  Fury Abatu had to clamp down hard onto Jennifer’s emotions while keeping the host in place.

But, the kiss was not going well.  Jennifer’s age-old fears came back with a vengeance.  Chad’s gentle probing tongue made her break out in a cold sweat. 

Jennifer could feel the clammy hands of a much larger, out of shape, drunken man on her body.  She could almost taste the sour beer on his breath.  She did all she could to not pull away from Chad but she stilled as she tried to breathe as shallowly as possible.  Jennifer hoped the memory would fade and leave her first real kiss in a long time alone…

“Did I…do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you —”

“Yeah, I know that one.  ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’  Got that.  See?  I was right.  It is better we do this the traditional way.  So, let’s start over.”

He had eased back from her and passed a hand over his perfect hair.  He plastered on a bright smile while sticking out his hand.

“Hi!  I’m Chad Fosdick and I would love to take you out to dinner, lunch or brunch sometime very soon.  I’m housebroken.  I’m a good listener.  I play the bazooka — rather badly.  I also love long walks in the park and horseback riding.  My family has a horse farm in Shelbyville, Tennessee… what?  You don’t believe me?  I’ve got pictures!  Look…”

Jennifer had broken down and was giggling uncontrollably.  Chad sounded so earnest and was working so hard to impress her.  Jennifer knew that she must be dreaming and at any moment she was going to wake up from the wettest dream she’d ever had.   She giggled so hard she had to pee and collapsed on the sidewalk.

Concerned, Chad squatted down and looked her in the face.  “Okay, young lady, I know I was being a geek but…really?”

Jennifer tried to get herself under control but wasn’t even remotely successful.

The Fury liked what was happening and found entertainment in the host’s interaction with the modern-day noble man.  Abatu didn’t sense any evil or wrongdoing in him, nor did she see any disease, or other injury, that would infect the host.  All in all, Abatu was pleased that the host had found such a suitable male to consort with pretty much on her own.  Abatu realized that with the host’s traumatic experiences, an understanding male would come in handy.  Abatu retreated fully and allowed the man and the Jennifer host to do as they pleased.

Wiping her eyes, Jennifer got to her feet with his help.

“Chad, you have no idea how sweet you are.”

“Sweet?  Just what a guy wants to hear.  How sweet he is…”

Jennifer realized her gaffe immediately.

“No!  No…” she took his hands in hers and looked up into his crestfallen face.  “What I meant was, what you were saying about yourself touched me.   I — I had a rough childhood and things weren’t always what I wanted them to be and…I have a few phobias that I probably shouldn’t be alluding to at this point,” she said with a wry grin.  She took a breath before she continued.  “But, I don’t want you going off half-cocked thinking I’m trying to brush you off.  I’m not a fast girl with lots of men hanging onto my every word, or each bat of my lashes.”

“Yeah, like your shorter friend.  She’s one of those.”

“Babs?  No, she’s cool.  She’s not a femme fatale.  She doesn’t use men like that.”

“Mmm-hmm.  Only when she wants something…”

With a stunned look, Jennifer peered at him closely.

“You sound bitter.  But, this isn’t about Babs.  This is about me and my crap.  I don’t want you to think I’m bipolar, or anything.  But, when it comes to men I’ve had very little dealings.  If you want to go out with me, well, you’ll have to take it real slow.  I’ve got layers.”

“Like an onion?”

“Nah, more like the layers of bureaucracy.” 

They both chuckled and Chad pulled her in for a light hug.

“Hurt so bad the federal government looks simplistic next to you?  Somehow you’ve made me feel better and more protective of you in one fell swoop.  You’re good.”

Jennifer smiled as he slid his finger down her nose.  Without a word, she turned to guide him down Court Street wondering what he was thinking.  She noticed that his eyes had darkened when he had looked at her a moment ago.  Suddenly apprehensive, Jennifer shivered as they crossed the street and headed down Dean Street.

“Where do you live Mr. Chad Fosdick?”

“In Williamsburg.”

“So, that’s the other way, I’m right here in Prospect Heights.  Why are you going this way?”

“I’m going to make sure you get home safely.”

“Wow, I finally have my very own knight, huh?”  She smiled and patted her Glock which was tucked in her waistband. “I’ve already got a knight and he’s full of hard cold metal.  Better still?  I’m licensed to carry.”

Chad was suitably impressed but pressed on with his machismo role and said, “That’s fine but I’m still going with you.  You can’t talk me out of it.”

“Yeah, I can,” she stopped moving, crossed her arms in front of her chest.  “You don’t know where I live and I don’t have any ID on me.  I only have my badge.  So, what’s it going to be, Knight?  I’ve got your number and I’ll use it next chance I get but let me go on alone since we’re not doing the one-nighter thing.”

Chad stood his ground looking at her defiantly.  He crossed his arms across his broad chest as well and stood stock still. 

Jennifer didn’t feel threatened but knew he was determined as a pit bull with a bone.

The Fury came to the fore and nudged Jennifer aside.  Abatu lowered her host’s head while staring into Chad’s eyes.  In moments, Jennifer’s eyes were blood-red.

Chad became uneasy.  His resolve began to weaken.  He heard a low growl that began deep in Jennifer’s belly.  Chad visibly shook. He dropped his arms and stepped back totally unsure of his eyesight when he saw a reptilian red-eyed creature staring back at him.  He blinked a few times rubbing his eyes as he looked at Jennifer again.  She looked like a petite reptilian she-devil.  Chad closed his eyes slowly as the Fury shifted to the background.  Chad prayed that he wouldn’t still see evil incarnate staring back at him.  He re-opened his eyes.  Jennifer looked completely normal in every way.  He sighed his relief then made a decision.

“I — I think I’m really tired.”  Chad ran his hand through his hair and put a hand on his hip.

Jennifer gulped before replying.  “Yeah, you’ve had a long night and so have I,” she stepped closer to him totally unaware of her loss of the past two minutes.  But, she did notice his unease.

“Let’s call it a night right here and I’ll give you a call in a couple of days, okay?”  Jennifer touched Chad’s arm in reassurance. 

However, Abatu used the contact to reach out to Chad’s mind.  The demon erased the last few minutes of Chad’s memory.

With Jennifer’s light caressing touch, Chad’s unease dissipated and a smile formed on his face.

“Sounds good!  It was a pleasure to meet you, Jennifer.”  He brought her hand to his lips and bussed them against each of her fingers.

Each kiss sent tiny electrical currents up Jennifer’s arm.  She beamed as her cheeks grew warm.

The Fury peeked out but did nothing.  Witnessing this first quickening of sexual desire was always a heady experience and Abatu wanted to experience it in full measure.

Chad gave Jennifer a mock salute and set off back towards the main street whistling a happy tune.  He turned and waved at her before he disappeared around the corner on Court Street.

Jennifer turned and continued down Dean alone.  She tried not to sigh as she passed the Fire department stationhouse.  All was quiet at the station; too quiet.  Jennifer wished for a bit of action.  The encounter with Chad had left her restless and jumpy.  With drooping shoulders and a bowed posture, Jennifer started walking down the block again already regretting the night’s celibacy.  She wished she wasn’t so divided about having a man in her bed.  But, no man had been in her bed since she was sixteen, if you called him a man.  Once more, Jennifer pulled back from the memory that was cocooned in the deepest recess of her mind.

Fury Abatu noticed a pulsating section in Jennifer’s lower brain.  The Fury knew this is where the hampering memory lived.  The Fury went to the area and extended its claw.  Abatu laid its reptilian claw against the host’s brain matter.  Hissing, Abatu saw that the memory was vicious.  Jennifer was being molested by her uncle. 

Abatu seethed but knew what it had to do.  It extended its claw so its sharp talons breached the brain cell’s membrane so its claw was now inside of Jennifer’s brain cell.  Using one of its unholy powers, Abatu expunged the memory and ameliorated the emotions associated with the traumatic event.  The Fury pulled back its claw and watched the cell blacken then shrivel into a tiny particle that would be swept away by roaming leukocytes.  Abatu, pleased with its handiwork, withdrew to the nether regions of Jennifer’s mind.

In mid-stride, Jennifer closed her eyes and sighed deeply.  She paused and stretched her arms skyward.  For some reason, it felt as if a great weight had rolled off her heart.  Jennifer quirked her head to the side and screwed up her face with intense introspection.  But nothing about the night felt like it could have made her feel so whole and alive.

     If meeting a guy can make me feel this way maybe I should meet a new guy on a regular. 

She smirked to herself but she did walk a little straighter with her head held higher as she resumed walking.  By the time she reached the corner, Jennifer decided she would text Chad her number as soon as she got home.  With a smile, she crossed the street and started down the next block with a bop in her step.  A few moments later, Jennifer felt more than heard someone behind her.

Abatu felt the Jennifer’s cop instincts kick in and the demon rushed to the fore.  Rapidly scanning the area, the Fury found the dark red streak of murderous intent in the male twenty paces behind the host.  Fury Abatu slowed the host’s pace to see if the man would pass.  After thirty paces, the Fury saw the man had slowed his pace as well.  It noticed his red aura was glowing and pulsating more quickly now.  The Fury frowned.  Then, it bared its sharp bat-like teeth.  The growl started again low in Jennifer’s body.  Still unsure if the man was coming after the host, the Fury crossed the street mid-block.

The man stopped and was standing under a street light watching as Jennifer crossed the street.

The Fury got a good look at him.  It saw that the man was thin with a tightly coiled reserve of energy that was ready to be released.  His breathing was audible through his dark ski mask.  His blood lust was rising and the Fury realized that the man wanted Jennifer…its brand new host!

Snapping Jennifer’s  head forward, the Fury made its host shorten her stride.  The Fury heard the man’s quick footfalls cross the deserted street.  Pushing Jennifer into to the background of her own mind, the Fury bent the Jennifer’s body down, pretending to tie a shoelace. 

The Fury chose to kneel near the base of a tree whose roots had upturned a large section of the sidewalk.  The unexpected move made the would-be assailant falter.  The precise response the Fury sought.  With ferocious animal speed, the Fury spun and attacked the tall gangly man.

A startled cry escaped from the would-be attacker.  Although his arm was perfectly positioned to arc downward and pierce Jennifer’s heart with the Mora of Sweden AB Stainless Steel military knife his fear had paralyzed him.  Fear of the image before his eyes. 

The man blinked.  Then, he pawed at his eyes with his still black-gloved hands but his vision didn’t clear.  It was showing him what he knew he couldn’t and shouldn’t see. 

The man saw the petite brunette’s flesh morphing from smooth supple youthful warm brown skin turn into something leathery green, scaly and calloused-looking.  Then, there were the six talons – three at the end of each arm – to contend with where moments ago there had been the normal ten nimble fingers present.

His pause gave Abatu the opening it needed.  The final little sharp tooth slid in cutting the host’s top lip.  With the transformation complete, the Fury fell upon the terrified man biting, tearing and chewing as a high-pitched feral hiss emerged from the demon’s thickened throat.

Fury Abatu enjoyed the blood-thirst-kill-pain exuding from the doomed man.  The demon drank its full of the man’s thick rich blood streaming from his jugular then went for his belly.  With one swipe, the man’s innards spilled out spraying his blood all over the trunk of the tree and the sidewalk.  The warm wetness of his life essence ebbed away in the darkness of the night.  Abatu lapped up the man’s blood and entrails but left his scrawny genitals untouched.

Satiation was a potent drug and the demon’s laughter came out in a gurgle as a drop of blood oozed between the demon’s needle-like front teeth.  The red droplet slid down the host’s elongated jaw and dripped onto the light grey fur covering Abatu’s upper body.

Peering around with eyes that could see in the dark as well as any feline Abatu’s silent attack had gone unnoticed by any nearby humans.  Fury Abatu made Jennifer stand upright and walk away with an air of nonchalance. 

As the demon put distance between itself and the body, Abatu was able to think clearly enough to diminish the telltale signs of murder.  The demon made Jennifer wipe the blood off of her hands and face which were morphing back into human normalcy. 

There was not much that could be done about the torn shirt and the bits of coagulated blood from the small flesh wound across Jennifer’s stomach and right thigh.  However, the darkness made the blood splatter less noticeable to the few people that the demon-infested human passed on the way home.

Abatu knew what to do with the damaged clothing and as soon as it got the Jennifer host indoors, it would make sure there were no traces of blood left behind.  

The demon did a quick mental tour of the host’s mind and saw that Jennifer was sleeping soundly far in the recesses of her own mind. 

Smiling a chilly smile, the Fury was pleased that the Jennifer host did not know she had just killed a man.

***

Friday, November 9th, Midday

Something was buzzing incessantly.  Jennifer groaned and swatted around her ears.  Coming out of a bilious slumber, Jennifer couldn’t fathom how a mosquito got into her apartment in early November.  The buzzing continued and the ineffectual swatting helped usher Jennifer out of her sleepy drunkenness.  It finally clicked and she bolted upright when realizing it was her landline phone.  Jennifer leaned over and grabbed it.

“Yeah?!”

“My, don’t you sound fetching.”

Jennifer flopped back onto her fluffy stomach sleeper pillows before responding.

“What is it Feinster?”

 “Well, so much for me getting a text when you got home last night.  Or, was it this morning?  Was he that good?”

 “What are you talking — oh, you mean Chad.  We said goodnight right near the bar.  I didn’t even let him see me home.”

“Why?  What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I take offense at that.  Why does something have to be wrong with me because I didn’t jump into his bed the first night I laid eyes on him?”

“Because you haven’t been laid in all the years I’ve known you.  You must be clamped so tight that the next time might kill you.  That’s why.”

Jennifer snorted and some of her ire dissipated.  The slight movement and swell of emotion made her groan as she put her free hand to her forehead.

“Uh-huh.  That hangover’s kicking in.  You do know its 12:30 right?”

“As in P.M.?”

“Always thought you were a sharp cookie…”

“I slept all day?”

“Apparently.  And what’s worse…by yourself.”

Jennifer sat up and looked around searching for the outfit from the night before.  She racked her brain but had no recollection of getting home.  She remembered the pleasant good-bye she shared with Chad and her walking off…but nothing else until her phone started ringing this morning.  Her outfit was nowhere to be seen.

“What was I wearing last night?”

“Damn, the Bomb and the Hurricanes did you in!  Oh yeah, and the Lynchburg Lemonade.  Chick, you were downing them left and right —”

“Feinster.  Clothing.  Focus.” 

Betty sighed.

“Jeans, ripped white-T, cute boots and a bolero-style denim jacket oh, yeah, and hot smoky eye make-up done by Babs.  Why?  You came home naked?”  Jennifer could practically hear the leer through the phone.

“Me?  I wore make-up?”

Jennifer flung the light comforter back and hopped out of bed wincing as the movement made her head and right thigh throb.  She peered into her vanity mirror and saw her face was scrubbed clean.  The pain made her check.  She lifted her white tank top and saw a faint scratch.  She investigated further and found a longer wider scratch on her right thigh.  The angry looking cut was six inches long.  Jennifer looked up into the mirror and saw panic fill her own eyes.  She strode into her bathroom and flicked on all of the lights; still not one iota of make-up residue anywhere.

“What’s wrong, Jenn?”

Ignoring the question, Betty said, “Let me call you back.  I gotta figure something out.”

Jennifer clicked off before her friend could complain.  Opening her hamper, she stared into it not believing what she saw.

There was nothing in it.

She knew that it was half-full yesterday morning; she had planned to do the laundry today; her day off.  She walked into the bedroom and pulled open the closet.  Nothing was out of place.  She walked out of her bedroom through the living room and into the kitchen.  She checked the tiny garbage bins that were never full due to her lack of usage of this particular room.  Then, she checked the bin in her combo den/office; all were empty.  Spotless.  Pristine.

Jennifer walked back to the center of the apartment, the living room, and stood there gazing at nothing in particular.  She crossed one arm across her chest and used the other to rest her chin.  She blinked rapidly as she tried to stem the flow of tears that was threatening to fall.  Jennifer blinked faster and faster until she out-blinked the hot salty stream.  For the moment.

Looking at it from the most objective angle, it appeared that Mr. Clean had come through, did a very thorough deep clean, and then threw everything away.

Jennifer grabbed her trench coat out of the small vestibule closet and rushed down the stairs in the 3-family house she lived in on St. Mark’s Avenue off of the ever bustling Flatbush Avenue.  She was intent on rummaging through the trash receptacles in the front of her building.

Jennifer stopped cold when she opened the front door to the building. 

The trash cans were by the curb.  It was Friday; garbage pickup was Monday, Wednesday and today…Friday.

Back upstairs, Jennifer sat on her couch in a slump with her trench still on.  Even thought she was sitting on her favorite piece of furniture – a stylish tan full couch, its fabric reminiscent of burlap, with chocolate colored felt appliqués along with the hand-placed rhinestones making up her initials, even it couldn’t bring the usual smile to her face.  She grabbed one of her most-loved throw pillows, the one with gauzy dark brown organza, and hugged it close as she stared into the distance.

Why would I come home well after two in the morning, take off my clothes, scrub my face, shower then empty all the trash bins in my apartment and trash the clothes I wore last night along with the other things in the laundry bin?  Only to come back in to play Mr. Clean complete with a magic eraser sponge leaving everything spotless?

Looking at it with her cop eyes, she knew the behavior was a clear cover for something quite possibly criminal, at the very least nefarious.  But, Jennifer had never committed a crime in her life, other than jaywalking and defending her childhood self from an unprincipled uncle…

Refusing to delve into those memories, Jennifer shuddered and refocused. 

There were certain things she knew about herself.  By nature, she was a neat freak; everything had its place and there was an organizational system for everything including her color-coded rubber bands.

Forget it’s me!  Something’s WRONG with this picture…

Jennifer pursed her lips and crossed her arms.  She began pacing as her cop-mind took over.  It shouted, Murder cover-up!  Why else would clothes be thrown away, and all surfaces scrubbed with such efficacy? 

Jennifer tried to ignore her twitching eyebrow and shoved back the memory of the huge bottle of bleach the younger Jennifer had hauled out of the pantry and wobbled up the stairs with…

The other, much less troublesome, tack her cop-mind identified was mundane but easier to swallow – she had simply thrown up all over the place, including into the laundry bin.  And, because she was so wasted, she simply had forgotten the whole untidy affair and was on total automatic with the cleanup aftermath.

Jennifer mulled over this hypothesis.  She didn’t remember getting home so if she had thrown up again when she reached home her instinct would have been to clean it up immediately no matter how tired she was feeling.

She got up, went into the kitchen and began preparing a pot of coffee with her twelve-cup Hamilton Beach 2-way Brewer.  It came with a commuter cup and brewed a pot of coffee or filled her commuter cup.  Every time Jennifer used it, an uncontrollable silly grin spread across her face.

Six minutes later, while pouring her first cup, she realized that if she were thinking about anyone else, she may have had to go down the road of criminal activity.  But this was her good ‘ole self.  She was the anal Jennifer who couldn’t stand a hair out of place.  That was how she escaped the trauma that was her childhood gone wrong.  She had always cleaned up afterwards using the strongest antibacterial soaps and creams with copious amounts of hot water.   She had scrubbed until her skin was well past the normal healthy, rosy glow.  Sometimes she had scrubbed until she bled…

Plopping one heaping teaspoon of organic sugar into her cup along with a dollop of half-and-half, she stirred and sipped blinking back the wetness that threatened to spill onto her cheeks.  However, the panic eased out of her shoulders bit by bit.  The more she thought about it, the more she grew convinced that was what had happened.  She had triggered the past awake somehow.  And, because of all of the drinks she had, she had made a mess which is why her OCD had kicked in but it went a little overboard this time.

“Mystery solved!”

She shrugged off the last bit of worry and the furrow in her brow smoothed out.  She pushed away from the marble island and walked purposefully to the fridge.  Her grumbling stomach alerted her that food was in order.

As Jennifer rummaged through the orderly Glad color coordinated containers — red for proteins, green for veggies, blue for carbs — searching for something to eat the Fury peeked into Jennifer’s mind.

Abatu saw and felt that the host’s peace and tranquility had returned.  The demon knew that it had to stay deeply hidden so the host would continue to find the OCD scenario plausible.  Any prodding would feel false in this host’s psyche and untold legions of problems could ensue from one small misstep on the demon’s part.

The Fury recalled many failed and aborted host attempts because it had pushed too hard, too early.  The demon’s seven hundred and three years were serving it well.  It shrank into the background, satisfied with itself.  It was finally beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, this host might be able to avoid the untimely violent death that usually awaited each of the demon’s previous hosts.  This host’s training as a law enforcement personnel gave the host an advantage the others simply did not have.  Settling in by Jennifer’s limbic brain, the Fury bided its time.

***

Next Chapter: Chapter 6