When Evil Comes Courting

By Jo Lynn Curry

Laura Freeman and her two daughters, Rachel and Becca, are enjoying a much anticipated vacation to Cancun. Splashing in the warm Caribbean water, they meet John DeAngelis and his two sons, Greg and Ben. An instant friendship settles in, but deeper feelings simmer potently below the surface between Laura and John.

Two nights before they are to return home, the teens beg for one last party on the beach. Although uneasy, Laura agrees. Rachel does not return.

Desperately, Laura reaches out to a foreign police department more interested in protecting the health of tourism than finding a missing child. With a sinking heart, Laura realizes it is up to her to find Rachel. With John at her side, they uncover the horrifying reason Rachel has been taken.

Deep in the Yucatan jungle, an evil resides. Ancient Mayan beliefs and rituals have been resurrected, but they are sinister, perverted by a dark mind. Laura has four days to find Rachel before she is hurtled into an unimaginable and deadly Mayan nightmare.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483551937

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Saturday, June 8, 2012. Ann Arbor, Michigan

I dreamt again last night, the same dream of darkness and blood—of whispers and caresses. They were so incongruous, these dreams of cruel violence and unfathomable fear, softened by tender touches and soothing whispers. I didn’t understand them, but they terrified me nonetheless.

The dreams begin happy enough. We’re laughing in the sun at first, but the sunshine fades, along with our smiles, until we are enveloped in darkness, cold and complete. The we being myself, Laura Freeman, and my two beautiful teenage daughters, Rachel and Becca. As the darkness descends, I reach out frantically to grab my girls, but my arms flail helplessly through nothing. I try to scream—to call them to me—but the words catch in my throat, sticky as warm taffy.

A dank, musty odor rolls over me, suffocating in its pungency. It conjures up a primitive instinct that screams through my veins. Fear! Fire! Foes! Something evil is lurking in the dark, quietly stalking my daughters, and I am immobilized by terror with a frustratingly silent scream stuck in my throat.

Mom! Help me, Mom! The sound of Rachel’s panicked plea breaks the invisible bonds that clutch me, and I turn toward her voice. Before I can take a step, a high-pitched cackle pierces the thick blackness, and a bony hand shoves me hard from behind. I careen over an unseen precipice and hurtle head over heels, the wind whistling in my ears. My body folds into a tight ball, braced for the inevitable crash, and here is where the dream goes all weird on me, as if it wasn’t weird enough: a soft yet formless presence slips beside me and envelopes me in warmth and love. Its whispers are unintelligible, but the embrace is soft and soothing, like a warm salve to calm the terror within. This presence is hauntingly familiar as it pulls me up toward a spreading, muted light. The darkness fades away, and whispers from this gentle formless being become louder, more urgent, and frighteningly clear.

Save Rachel! Save Rachel! Save Rachel!

I awaken with hot bile in my throat and a cold band of panic crushing my body.

The first dream occurred two weeks ago, on the third anniversary of my husband, Mark’s, fiery death. They have happened almost nightly since, and in the beginning, I was only vaguely disturbed. At first, I thought they were just vestiges of the utter loss and desolation I had felt when Mark died. Now I wasn’t so sure. The intensity of the dreams was increasing, and that vague sense of foreboding was growing daily. I could no longer rationalize them away any more than I could squelch the lingering feeling that my daughters were somehow in danger.

I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of my lonely bed, shivering as the ceiling fan whipped cold air over my damp and clammy body. A hiss startled me, drawing my attention to the foot of the bed. Our normally docile cat, Maggie, was standing rigidly at the edge, all puffed and arched, her luminescent yellow eyes dilated and staring intently at me. She was such a good-natured cat, and her uncharacteristic behavior spooked me. Instinctively, I reached for her, and she hissed harder and crab-walked fearfully away from me. I jerked my hand back as the memory of the dream crashed through me, a single distinct whisper vibrating in my ears.

Save Rachel!

An intense shiver snaked down my body, and it wasn’t from the ceiling fan this time. I was frightened. What was going on? The dreams seemed to be affecting even my waking life, and I didn’t like it at all.

Tentatively, I patted the bed next to me and talked quietly to Maggie, the effort calming both of us. My familiar voice soothed her, and she hesitantly stretched her neck to sniff my hand. I could see her tense body visibly relax, but I waited until she was mostly de-puffed before I attempted to pet her. With her soft gray body relaxed and pliable again, she sidled next to me and pressed against my side, head-butting my hand in her familiar love-on-me gesture. Breath I didn’t even know I was holding sighed out of me, and I scooped her up to cradle in my arms.

Thoughts and emotions jumbled around in my head as I stroked and cuddled Maggie, trying to reason away the fear that still pressed into me. My reactions were reasonable, considering I had just awakened from a nightmare. But Maggie? Her reaction frightened me more than the nightmares themselves. Did her keen animal sense detect something I couldn’t, or was she just reacting to my emotions?

Absently, I stroked her soft, furry head and thought about our silly little hellion cat. Maggie had crawled into our lives shortly after Mark died. She wasn’t more than five or six weeks old and as scrabbly and sickly-looking as any kitten I had ever seen when, early one morning, we found her mewling pitifully on our front porch. It was love at first sight, though, especially for Becca. Maybe it was Maggie’s helplessness that tugged so hard at our hearts, but I suspect it had more to do with the healing process from a death that still clutched at us with a ragged, raw pain. Maggie quickly and inextricably entrenched herself into our little family, so no matter how much of a hellion she was, and make no mistake, she was a hellion cat, all she ever got was a squirt from a water bottle and then lots of hugs. Lucky cat. Damn lucky cat most days.

But why would our normally playful, lovable cat hiss and act frightened of me after the nightmare? I’d never been plagued with bad dreams, and this new phenomenon of my nights was getting to me. At first I could shake off the feeling of disquiet, but the repeating dreams left me with an unsettling sense of foreboding that lasted well into my day.

Maggie, what in the world is going on? I mused out loud to her. My only answer was a contented purr that rumbled against my arm. I smiled as I hugged her close, thankful for the comfort she gave. It was too tight for Maggie though, and she squirmed out of my arms and stretched at the end of the bed, her tail flicking playfully.

My sigh was still a little shaky as I pushed myself up and trudged into the bathroom to brush the last clinging bits of fear from my mouth. A soft tap on my bedroom door stopped me.

Mom? Are you up yet? It was Becca, whispering loudly through the door.

Yes, and what in the world are you doing up so early? It’s a Saturday, for heaven’s sake, I answered, pleased my voice did not quaver. I forced a smile onto my face.

Becca, my youngest daughter at fourteen years, was up at the crack of dawn for nearly a week now, fairly bursting with excitement in anticipation of our very first real vacation since her dad died. If truth be known, it was really our very first real anything since that fiery day.

The past three years had been a nightmare for all of us; a dark, bleak blackness permeated every aspect of our lives. It wasn’t until six months ago that I could even contemplate doing the fun things that Mark and I used to do with the girls, like vacations. Once the plans were finalized though, the three of us had been like excited, giddy schoolgirls, but not quite as much as Becca. She was excitement incarnate.

My fixed smile faded as Becca quietly opened the door and sat heavily on my bed.

What’s the matter, honey? I asked worriedly as I brushed her sleep-tangled blonde hair away from her face. She looked up at me, her big blue eyes soulful and glistening with tears. Two thin scratches marred her otherwise smooth, tanned cheeks.

And what happened to your face? Those scratches weren’t there last night.

"Mom, I had an awful dream last night. I don’t really remember a lot, but it was still creepy because the feeling that something awful was going to happen was so strong and…I don’t know…real feeling. Someone was chasing me, and it was so hard to breathe, like I was breathing through a plugged mask or something. I kept trying to wake up, but I couldn’t. Just when I thought I was going to suffocate, I felt something…I don’t know…good touch me.

I think that thing that felt kinda good was coming to help me, but then Maggie woke me up, Mom, when she scratched my face. She was hissing at me too. I don’t know if I accidently hit her in my sleep and it made her mad or what. She’s never acted like that before, and it scared me.

A cold, piercing stab of fear shot through my gut. I wanted to reach out to Becca—hold her—but my muscles would not respond. Becca didn’t notice.

Do you think, Mom, that the dream means something bad is going to happen? That’s what I felt all through the dream, and I even have that terrible feeling now. Do you think something is going to happen to Maggie while we’re gone? Her voice was dull and sad, and when she looked up at me with those baleful eyes, I somehow found the will to break the glue that held my muscles immobile.

I reached out and pulled her close. No, baby, I don’t, I lied. I think it’s just nerves and excitement about Cancún that are working your mind into a pretzel. We’re going to have an absolutely wonderful time, so stop worrying. And Maggie will be right here when we get home, safe and sound.

But, Mom, you know what a brat she can be. And what about Toby? He’s a big dog, and he could squish her with one foot.

Uncle Jeff and Aunt Mary will take good care of Maggie and make sure that Toby doesn’t hurt her. Besides, she’s the top cat, and she’ll put Toby in his place easily enough.

Fear bells were still clanging in my head, but I couldn’t let Becca know that. She was a perceptive child, and if she wasn’t so upset herself, I don’t think I could have pulled off hiding my own unease. I desperately wanted some time to think. Then another thought struck me.

Becca, is this the first time you’ve had this bad dream? I asked, tensing as I waited for her answer.

I think so. I don’t know. Sometimes I wake up in the morning thinking I might have dreamt something scary, but this is the first time I really remember actually dreaming. But it’s only been maybe the last two weeks that I’ve felt… I don’t know…like I should be remembering something important when I wake up. Are you sure about Maggie, Mom? Really sure? She’ll be okay while we’re in Cancún?

Icicles tingled down my spine. The way her dreams and feelings mirrored my own just seemed too coincidental and…well…just plain weird. But I didn’t want Becca to suspect the fear that was burning in the pit of my stomach. It was an effort to keep my voice normal.

"I’m sure, honey. It’s just we’re leaving in the morning, and I think you’re going to miss her, and this is your mind’s way of expressing that emotion.

Since you’re up, why don’t you go downstairs and start getting things ready for pancakes? Maybe the smell will roll your sister out of bed.

Becca screwed up her nose. I don’t think so. She already yelled at me this morning because I was too loud. She thinks she’s just the queen bee around here since she graduated. Do we have to take her to Cancún with us? She’s such a pain.

I had to admit, Becca was right. Ever since Rachel had become an almighty senior in high school, she was a pain, especially to Becca. She had always before allowed Becca to tag along wherever she went, but last summer she suddenly decided that she was too mature to hang out with her younger sister, and there had been hurt feelings and arguing over the past year. Still, in spite of Rachel’s obnoxious behavior, Becca would flip somersaults for her big sister if she asked.

I really wanted some time to think, so I pushed her teasingly away and said, Go on, get those pancakes ready. I’ll be down in a few minutes to help.

She gave me a half-hearted smile as she headed for the kitchen. Watching her slim frame disappear through the door, her slightly wavy blonde hair swaying, I was clutched with an overwhelming longing for Mark. I still missed him so much. He was the most sensitive, caring, and intelligent man I had ever met, and he would have known exactly what to say to assuage our fears.

If only he were alive.

Memories of Mark, soft and colorful like so much confetti sprinkling down from the sky, fell softly before my eyes: Mark smiling as he slipped my wedding band on my finger; strong, safe arms holding me tight; tears at the birth of our daughters; lovers’ whispers in the night. My most precious memories, though, were of Mark and the girls. He loved them so much! He and RaRa, his pet name for Rachel, shared a love of reading and often read books together. But Becca was the most like Mark, and the two of them shared a love of just about everything. Becca trailed after him no matter what he was doing.

I often think about the conversation Mark and I had the night before he died. In retrospect, it almost seems as if he had a premonition of his death.

Mark held me tight—so tight it almost hurt. His mouth was pressed close to my ear, whispering.

You know I’ll always love you and the girls, don’t you sweetheart? I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.

I squeezed him back and said playfully, Like the vows we took, til death do us part!

He didn’t laugh, though. Instead, he said very seriously, Not even death can sever the love I hold for you. This love comes once in a lifetime, and it’s forever. No matter what, when you need me, I will find a way to come to you. I swear it, Laura, on the love I hold for you and the girls, I swear it!

At the time, I thought what a sweet, typical Mark declaration. But the recent onslaught of these frightening dreams twisted my sweet memory into something more foreboding. What if there was a way to communicate from the other side? Had Mark found a way to reach me through dreams? If that one spark of goodness that I felt in my nightmares was Mark, what did he mean, save Rachel? Save Rachel from what? And how? And why was Becca having nightmares too, and not Rachel? What was Becca’s role in all this?

I had way more questions than answers. As a matter of fact, I didn’t have one single answer.

Mark? I softly called, feeling just a little foolish. Mark? Is this you trying to communicate with me? I stood very still, straining, listening, praying, but the room remained agonizingly silent.

I needed to get down to the kitchen to help Becca with breakfast before she popped back up to see what was keeping me, so I gathered up all my questions, and with difficulty, tucked them into a corner of my mind. Becca was my little worry-wart, and I didn’t want to give her any more reason to worry than she already had.

My maternal instinct, though, was still on painfully high alert. Until these dreams ceased, I knew I would be hovering over my daughters like an overprotective mother hen, shadowing their every move.

A quiet but vehement vow whispered from my lips, uttered with the complete conviction that I could shield and protect my daughters from the evils of the world. How naïve I was. There are evils in this world that are clever and malicious, and when evil comes courting, devastation follows.

CHAPTER 2

Sunday, June 9, 2012

Let’s go, girls! You need to eat before we leave! I shouted up the stairs. Last night had been blessedly nightmare free, and I was feeling rested for once, in spite of lying awake half the night pondering Mark and my dreams and all those unanswerable questions that still pounded in my head. As I turned back toward the kitchen, my toe caught the edge of my suitcase that was leaning against the long table in the foyer, packed so full the zipper bulged. With a sigh I hoped it would hold together and bent over to gingerly poke at it. When I stood up, my elbow caught something on the table, and I jumped when it crashed to the floor.

A feeling of déjà vu washed over me as I stared at the fallen object, inexplicably afraid to touch it. Slowly I reached down and picked up the last family photo taken before Mark died and carefully turned the frame over. The glass was shattered, and yet every piece remained tenaciously in place. How odd, I thought, that something could be so broken and yet so intact. Softly I kissed the top of the frame and gently set it back on the table. As my fingers pulled away, I heard a small crackling sound and gasped. It was as if the glass over Rachel had convulsed, leaving her face completely hidden behind an opaque star burst of splintered glass. Tingling, burning fear pulsed through my veins.

I stepped back until I bumped into the far wall. I stood there for long moments, hugging that wall and swallowing down my fear, eyes riveted on the picture.

Get a grip. This isn’t what you think it is, I whispered, half under my breath. Slowly, I shuffled back to the picture and poked the frame. Nothing happened. I jiggled the frame a little—and then a little more. Still nothing happened.

Okay. It’s all okay. Relief shaded my voice. It’s just a stress fracture that popped out from jarring the glass.

Mom! Rachel yelled from the top of stairs, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Will you pop me in a bagel? I’ll be down in two minutes!

Irritated for acting so stupid, I chided myself all the way to the kitchen, even as I gave the photo a wide berth and a wary look. Glad to have something normal to do, I dug the bagels out of the drawer and split two to toast, just in case Becca decided she wanted one, too.

While they toasted, my disobedient mind kept flipping up questions, like a crazy, backward Magic 8 Ball. All my reasoning’s for these unexplainable events fit very nicely and were certainly plausible. So why was I still feeling edgy? Sticky doubts still lingered, hanging tenaciously to the fringes of my rationale.

What the hell was going on? Was anything going on? Should I cancel our vacation? Was everything just a coincidence? Why was I so quick to succumb to blind fear? That was highly unlike me. I’m logical and rational, so much so that Mark used to tease me that I was more in touch with my masculine side than a lot of men he knew. So what was the rational, logical explanation for these spooky…what should I call them? Happenings? Instances? Warnings from beyond?

Knock it off! I scolded myself. This is not a message from beyond. You’re just wound up about the first vacation without Mark and you’re sad and scared.

That had to be it. I tried hard not to, but for a while now, I noticed that as time went on Mark did not occupy all of my thoughts. When did I stop asking myself what Mark would do and simply do what I thought was best? It saddened me, but I knew I was finally letting go of the life I had shared with Mark.

It was lonely, this business of moving on.

So the biggest question of all still remained: should I succumb to this irrational fear and cancel our much-anticipated and much-needed vacation or make the logical decision and continue moving on? I was still waffling when the girls came bumping down the stairs with their suitcases.

Mom! You’re burning the bagels! squealed Rachel as she flipped up the crispy disks. Do we have any more? I hate burned bagels, she said disgustedly as she tossed them into the waste basket.

There’s a whole bag in the drawer. What about you, Becca? I burned one just for you too.

Yeah, I guess I’ll have one. Have you seen Maggie, Mom? I haven’t seen her all morning. Her voice was unusually subdued, and I glanced worriedly at her as I split two more bagels to toast.

You okay, honey? Did you sleep well last night? I asked, even though I suspected by her demeanor that she’d had another nightmare.

Yeah, I guess so. I didn’t have another nightmare, if that’s what you’re asking. But I still can’t get over that awful feeling about Maggie. She sat dejectedly at the kitchen table.

What nightmares? asked Rachel.

It’s nothing, just a bad dream I had, Becca said evasively, obviously not wanting to discuss her dreams with her big sister.

Dreams don’t mean anything, anyway. It’s just your mind’s way of dealing with issues. Besides, what issues could a pipsqueak like you have, anyway? she asked dismissively. Becca just shrugged her shoulders.

You know, I’ve been thinking. We don’t have to go on this vacation right now. We can postpone it a bit, I ventured.

No! exploded both girls at the same time.

What, we’d cancel our vacation because baby here had a bad dream? That’s not fair, Mom! We’ve looked forward to this for six months, Rachel said angrily.

I’m not a baby, Rachel, so shut up already. Besides, you don’t even know what you’re talking about as far as my dream.

Mom, I don’t want to cancel our vacation. I want to go—I really do. What if we just warn Uncle Jeff to take extra special care of Maggie—to watch her real close? He’d do that, wouldn’t he?

Of course he would. And Rachel, I expect you to be more respectful of your sister. You can get your point across without all the sarcasm. Rachel glared at her sister but did manage to hold her tongue.

I was torn. Part of me wanted to cancel our vacation and hide in my room, but another part argued, quite logically, that to do so would be, well, illogical. The girls were watching me closely, their eyes full of silent pleading. My logical side won the argument.

So it’s on to Cancún for the Freeman girls!

Yes! said Rachel, as she slapped the table jubilantly. Becca laughed, which I erroneously took for a good omen.

I glanced at the clock. Better hurry and eat. The limo should be here soon, I said, and marveled again at the idea that we were taking a limo to the airport. Becca had asked to do something different this vacation, and when Rachel suggested taking a limo, it seemed the perfect idea to give our vacation memories a new, fresh twist: something different from family vacations when their dad was alive.

Quickly, we finished eating, cleaned up the kitchen, and were waiting at the door when the limo pulled up. As we started out the door, Becca suddenly dropped her suitcase and turned back inside.

Mom! We can’t go without giving Maggie a hug! Here, kitty kitty kitty! Here, kitty kitty kitty! she called tearfully as she bolted back into the house.

Maggie sauntered lazily from the living room, tail held regally high and haughty, as usual. Becca hugged her fiercely and wouldn’t let go until Maggie mewled and wiggled out of her hard embrace. Becca trotted quickly back, tears glistening in her eyes.

You’re sure, Mom, Uncle Jeff will remember to come and get her tonight and he’ll take good care of her? You’re really sure? Her sweet voice was pleading and watery.

Of course he will, honey. Don’t worry. Uncle Jeff and Aunt Mary love Maggie and will take good care of her. I gave her a quick hug and helped pick up the overturned suitcase.

The girls rolled and bumped along to the limo, and I turned back to lock the door. The snick of the key sent a ripple of foreboding whispering through my body and an unreasonable thought that the next time that door opened, life would be irrevocably changed. Cancelling our vacation leaped into my head, but when I turned to call the girls back, I felt silly. What on earth could I tell them that wouldn’t sound crazy?

I’d never been prone to superstitions, but I still felt a little spooked by all the strange things that had been going on lately. I had a vague, fluttering sense that the girls, especially Rachel, were somehow in danger, and Becca seemed to have a strong sense that Maggie wouldn’t be here when we returned. Was all this just a manifestation of my feelings of loss because Rachel would be leaving for college soon and living on campus, leaving a huge hole in our already fractured family? If Rachel really were in danger, wouldn’t she be experiencing similar dreams? She seemed perfectly fine. Maggie had bonded the most with Becca, so it made sense that she would have premonitions about her kitty. And given Maggie’s unusual behavior, I decided that just maybe these nightmares did concern our little fur ball and meant nothing more.

With a sad sigh and a silent prayer for Maggie’s safety, I dragged my own suitcase to the young and very good-looking limo driver and climbed in with the girls. Rachel seemed much more animated than I expected, while Becca was uncharacteristically quiet, sitting and staring out the side window.

Good morning, ladies! said our darkly handsome driver as he slid into the front. My name is Sean, and I’ll be taking you to the airport today. Would you like me to keep the divider window open during our ride or would you prefer it to be closed? he asked with a very interested look in Rachel’s direction.

You can leave it open, Rachel quickly replied, giving him one of her for-boys-only smiles.

His own smile widened and he gave her a wink, which made her smile even more. I just sighed. What’s a mother to do with beautiful, maturing daughters?

The ride to the airport took less than an hour, and I chattered away to both girls, half to keep Rachel from Sean and half to draw out Becca. I wasn’t very successful on either account.

When we finally arrived, Sean gracefully pulled our luggage out of the trunk, and with smiles and winks, assured Rachel that he would be the one to pick us up for the return ride home. We wheeled our bags inside and queued up to check them in. Becca still looked glum, her pretty face furrowed with worry lines. Even Rachel noticed her somber mood.

Hey, Becca, what’s eating you? You’ve been a pain in the neck—well, actually about two feet lower—for the past week and now you barely seem excited. You sick or something? Rachel actually seemed concerned, which was a pleasant surprise.

No, I’m not sick. I just…I don’t know…just don’t feel right, you know? I hope I’m not getting sick, though.

Rachel good-naturedly shoulder-bumped her sister and said, Don’t worry, Becca, be happy! This would normally have elicited a huge smile. She loved that phrase, as well as those silly iconic smiley faces, and had decorated her mirror, ceiling, school binders, and locker with millions of them. This time she barely smiled, which ratcheted up my worry thermometer.

Looking into her sad blue eyes, I knew I really needed to have a heart-to-heart talk with her. As soon as the plane was airborne, I would try to allay her fears about Maggie. I hoped Rachel would either fall asleep or listen to her headphones. I didn’t need her two cents worth, since her two cents would probably be laced with ridicule and make Becca clam up.

CHAPTER 3

Eighteen years before, June 18, 1994, a remote Mayan village deep in the jungle of the Yucatan Peninsula.

A scream, long and full of pain, chased through the small village. Silence followed as morning chores ceased and the villagers exchanged fearful, worried glances. Inez started at the piercing screech, spilling a little tea on her rough cotton shift. With a heavy sigh, she set her cup on the freshly swept dirt floor of her hut, and with a grace and agility that belied her age, she pulled her thick body up and ambled slowly over to pick up her birthing bundle.

She knew who screamed and, just as certainly, she knew that no one in the village would be helping with this birth. Fear would keep them away. Only Inez had the courage to help Ramona with the birth. Tucking her bundle safely under her arm, Inez hurried to Ramona’s hut as another scream pierced the silence.

Slipping quietly inside, Inez found Ramona curled naked in a heap on top of a ragged sleeping mat, her thin frame shaking. The sturdy waddle and daub walls of her living area did not allow light to penetrate the gloom and heat